


I Wrote A Truffula Flu Ending In 2020

by tanakaempire



Category: The Lorax (2012), Truffula Flu
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Hallucinations, Healing, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, In the Zombie Apocalypse, Infected Characters, Injury Recovery, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Mercy Killing, Not like the adjective Swag he's just being Like He Is, Road Trips, Safe Haven, Search for a Cure, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Themes, Swag being Swag, Swag being vulgar, Transformation Into A Zombie, What if we kissed, Zombie Apocalypse, and the author tried her hardest not to address that last part, and we were both the onceler!?, heres your food oncelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanakaempire/pseuds/tanakaempire
Summary: When the members of Camp Entre face a dilemma concerning their allowance into a newly discovered 'safe haven,' Entre, Swag, and the rest of the infected gamble with life and death in one final attempt to find the cure.
Relationships: Entre & Rocky, Rocky & Ted Wiggins, Swag & One-ler, Swag & Rocky, Swag/Entre, Swagtre
Comments: 30
Kudos: 26





	1. Can I Be The Only Hope For You?

**Author's Note:**

> I got into this fandom very late and by complete accident. I understand I am eight years late to writing truffula flu content, but as always I am self-indulgent and wanted to write something for the AU. Characters are not mine of course !! They all belong to their respective creators who are lovely and I hope are doing well.

Entre had started hiding his cough.  
Perhaps it was dishonest, but lying in bed grew a more and more restless activity every day. With a mess of voices clouding his mind and only the RV for company, the itch to step outside grew a bitterer and bitterer temptation.  
  
There were things that came with the withdrawal of control, Entre realized. Certain stresses twisted themselves inside out and back again.  
No more need to be everyone's punching bag - that was a benefit, he supposed, even if it damaged his ego to have failed his self-designated role of leader.   
And yet, he was in the dark.  
Entre had once been the only one in the light about _Rocky's_ secret, but everything else felt so closed off from him. Entre was no longer the final call, the last confirmation, the man who would _eventually_ have everything brought up to him.  
  
Pros and cons, he supposed.  
But Entre didn't like being in the dark.  
Sometimes Swag's worries about becoming useless wormed their way into his mind, too.  
Entre still had a _job._ Even if his responsibilities had been pulled from his hands and handed off to someone else, he didn't feel any less weighed down.  
  
So, pulling his jacket over his shoulders, he pressed a hand against the door, the other covering his mouth as he choked up a strangled, fitful cough. A few more tumbed from his throat in unfortunate, awkward breaths.  
  
_Just a cough,_ he dismissed to himself, choking down an scratchy, weak sound.  
One that hadn't seemed to get any better even when he _had_ started obeying Swag's stupid insistences.  
But he'd keep any worries to himself.  
  
As the entrepreneur's breaths settled again, he cleared his throat, wiping off a green-gloved hand with some distaste off on his pant leg.  
  
Opening the door in a grandiose gesture, reminiscent for a moment of his days a budding celebrity businessman, Entre's stiff posture managed to sag down a bit. _Jeez.  
_Resting an elbow on the door, he briefly glanced around, peering around the corner of the RV in hopes of catching a glimpse of Swag under the hood, busying himself with its repair as usual.  
  
_Soon,_ that was the promise that hung in the air.  
_Soon_ the RV would be functioning, and they could start their movements again.  
  
Would that mean more being cooped up? Or _less?_ How was Entre supposed to know?  
Minding the step, he distanced himself from the parked vehicle, wandering without perfect aim. He wasn't picky - sometimes just the sensation of stretching his legs and going _somewhere_ was enough.  
  
Rounding the RV, he rested a hand against the tail light, peering his head down in hopes of finding Swag hard at work.  
  
\--No.  
_Swag's out._  
  
With a tired sigh, Entre touched briefly at the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket, before letting his hand slip away -- thinking the better of it.  
Wouldn't help hiding the cough, would it?  
  
After a few moments of lingering at the rear end of the RV, giving the bordering forest nothing more than a tired, begrudging stare, Entre cleared his throat, turning tail and heading back for the door to his idle little prison.  
At least Rocky was around there somewhere.  
  
Reaching a his gloved hand for the door handle--  
  
A mechanical crackle filled the noise of the air behind him.  
After a soft whine, a magnified voice echoed into the back of his head.  
  
_"The king has arrived!"_ All too familiar a voice - one that Entre could tell apart even from the other survivors in the camp.  
  
Covering his mouth to mask a startled cough, Entre spun around, a hand still clamped firmly around the handle as his hooded eyes lifted up.  
  
And sure enough, an unusually confident swagger gracing his ceremonious steps, it was Swag. The second the other caught Entre's attention, he lowered his megaphone enough to reveal a cocky smile. He didn't seem upset catching Entre red-handed outside of his room.  
  
At his reaction, Entre eased easily, turning around with an upbeat smile of his own.  
"Hey! You're back," the entrepreneur acknowledged warmly, voice withdrawn to the faintest degree. That cat-and-mouse game they always played - where no one was allowed to care _too_ much about the other.  
  
"Why, miss me?" Swag tutted, quirking a brow as he lowered his glasses to his nose.  
  
"Psh. You ask me that every time," Entre droned, noting Swag's contagious air of confidence.  
  
"'Cause I'm always fuckin' right," Swag scoffed, stepping past Entre to open their shared door and step inside, the bell jingling faintly in the wake of his steps.  
  
Taking a quick glance behind him, Entre pursued the other, closing the door behind them.  
  
"Anything good out there?" Entre paused, giving a friendly enough smile - gaging, for a moment, where Swag's emotions were. Perhaps there was no need.  
He seemed awfully smug today. Moreso than usual, if it were at all possible.  
  
"Got bit today," Swag rattled off. "Twice - it was hilarious as shit! Here, you wanna see one?"  
  
"One what?" Entre glanced over questioningly, sitting up from his resting position to glance down at Swag resting beside him.  
  
"Fucking bite mark, dumbass," Swag pulled up the edges of his green gloves showily before resting a hand on the bottom of his shirt and beginning to tug it up. A suspenseful strip tease.  
Finally, he jerked the fabric over his chest, grimacing as he pointed out a freshly scabbed over bite, already beginning to bruise over.  
“Right on my _fucking nipple._ S' that perverted, or what? Even slugs can't get their hands off me." He huffed out a laugh, cocking a brow at Entre as under his glasses.  
  
-Entre managed a laugh, leaning forward to squint at it. "-Jeez..." He reached out a hand to examine the wound, before it was promptly pushed away by the other.  
  
"Hey," Swag warned teasingly. "Hands off, asshole. You some kinda perv, too?"  
  
"I was trying to treat it-!" Entre laughed defensively. "You're just going to let it sit there?"  
  
"Sure you were. Maybe I'll let you patch it, though, just because your desperate ass is hard to look at." Swag jested softly, leaning back as he relocated his sunglasses to his forehead. He promptly let his shirt fall back down.  
" _First,_ though, there's something we found that you won't fucking believe. Assuming we hear back about it, anyway." Swag set his megaphone down somewhat carelessly on an end table, before tugging his glasses down again - purely for effect. "Safe haven. A government one. _Close._ "  
  
"...Safe haven?" Entre was more _confused_ about the statement than anything else. "...What - do you mean, a safe haven? A real one?" He said the words slowly, hoping he was hearing correctly. Swag was staring too intently for this to be some kind of a joke.  
  
"Yeah. Seemed unbelievable to me, too," Swag admitted, leaning back and resting a hand on the counter behind him. "Found a survivor at the mall, actually. Wasn't sure I believed 'em at first." He slipped a cigarette from his pocket, sticking it between his teeth, but faltering as he considered lighting it up. "But we sent 72 n' Dave to go check it out."  
  
Entre found himself nodding - the words themselves were exciting, but he hesitated to comment until he understood. "Safe haven - like, safe from the slugs?"  
  
"Supposedly," Swag waved a hand for emphasis, as he did routinely when speaking. "We'll see if any of it holds up when they get back. Said they were keeping the slugs out. Doing on some kinda quarantine bullshit. Everyone inside's clean. That's what they told me, anyway."  
  
That - Entre stopped. He pressed his lips together, taking a slow, deep breath before lifting his head. "...I mean - frick, that's great."  
  
"Say a cuss word, you pussy," Swag elbowed Entre playfully, "it's _fucking great,_ that's what it is. If it's true, anyway. At least it's a fucking start."  
  
...Too soon, though, Entre melt his smile fading. "..." Did he - even bring it up?  
_The infected._ The ones that were here in their camp. Surely, Swag was thinking of it, too.  
The celebration suddenly felt naïve. Premature, if anything.  
Looking a gift horse in the mouth felt stupid. The infected were slated for an unfortunate end anyway - but they came to mind almost immediately. He wanted to mention it.  
Ted, One... everyone had gotten on his ass for shoving them away in a closet. But what was this going to be if not that? Or something _worse?_  
Every day the infected were a risk - and if this town was some kind of _safe haven,_ then there was almost no way they were going to be allowed near it. _Do they even have a cure ready?_  
Ted, One -- _and Rocky._ A bitter taste boiled at the back of Entre's mouth.  
  
Clearing his throat again and sniffling up a breath, Entre gave a practiced half-smile.  
...Ah. Considering everyone's reactions to any of Entre's mention of the infected before, it was best to keep his mouth shut.  
It was best not to dampen the mood.  
  
_At least shit's finally looking up._ And that was better than they'd ever had.  
  
So he bit his tongue, nodding stiffly instead.  
And didn't say a word.  
  
"Yeah. You're right." Entre paused. "If it's all true - then... that'd be a good start."  
  
They could wait and see.


	2. How Soon Is Now?

News spread quickly around camp.  
  
The circumstances became more clear as Entre had a chance to converse with the camp leader himself - a _government-sanctioned_ safe haven. That sounded as official as Entre had hoped.  
But its existence brought other questions into line.  
While the fate of the infected still hung in the air, the choice seemed glaringly obvious, even if it was talked around.  
From what Entre had been able to piece together, 72 seemed just as determined to keep them all together.  
  
A feral thought couldn't help but to sour his expression.  
_Bet he wouldn't care if they locked me out, huh?_  
Entre kept his bitter thoughts to himself.  
  
And that in itself brought up another question. _Are we even going to make it there?_  
If 72 wanted to preserve the group, then it was likely to become yet another waiting game. Entre could hold out hope that the establishment would have a cure ready, but if they _didn't..._  
_We stay outside._  
Longer out of safety.  
Hope that built to nothing.  
_Again, again, again..._  
  
And there was one more question that lingered in the back of his head, too. One that felt selfish to bring up.  
...But it was important, nonetheless. Perhaps Entre was just afraid of its answer.  
  
-Entre's thoughts were interrupted as the bell on the RV's door jingled, prompting him to glance up.  
He hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting there, his thoughts racing in his head, until he recognized the pale color of nightfall shining through the window.  
  
And entering through the door was Swag, falling into the routine of getting into bed before the door had even closed behind him.  
  
"Hey jerk," Entre addressed.  
  
"Hey, dickwad." Swag leaned across the cot, narrowing his eyes and giving a thumbs up to Rocky across the RV.  
  
The rockstar returned the greeting tiredly, giving the duo a passive 'rock on' hand gesture.  
  
"Both of you look like shit," Swag commented passively, shedding his jacket carelessly onto the floor and crawling into bed beside Entre.  
  
After lying beside Swag in silence for a minute or two, Entre turned onto his side, readjusting himself as he exhaled a soft huff. "Hey, Swag?"  
  
The other glanced up, he, too, turning onto his side. "Yeah, what's up?"  
  
"...Been wondering about the save haven. You're really going to go there tomorrow?"  
  
Swag paused, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling for a moment as he contemplated. "I mean, shit. That's the plan." He hesitated suddenly, though, giving Entre a sideways glance. "You're making a stupid face. What is it?"  
  
"...I just - was thinking that they might not let me in." Entre cleared his throat before going on. "...'Cause I - started the infection. Were you - uh... wondering about that, too?"  
  
"...Yeah." Swag cleared his throat, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand before giving a dramatic sigh. "Tomorrow I'll go n' see if they'll - you know. Take you in. You can stay here n' get your rest." Then Swag squinted again. "Take your meds today?"  
  
"Yeah, I did," Entre waved the other off, turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "Heh. What, you don't want me to come with you in heels after all?"  
  
"Sounds to me like you wanna do it," Swag jested.  
  
"Psh. It was your idea." Entre rolled his eyes dramatically.  
  
"Sure it was. You're the one who hopped on the fucking band wagon." Swag chuckled softly. "...But yeah. Listen." He shifted around. "...If there's a cure there and we end up going inside - then I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you. And neither will 72. We talked about it, alright? We're all in this together. And if something happens and they don't want you there? Then fuck. We'd rather do shit on our own. As a team - that's what 72 said anyway. He's not gonna let them separate us." He paused, nodding his head knowingly. "And if they don't have a cure... well. Think you'd be the least of their issues with us. We're gonna have to see for ourselves, y'know."  
  
"...Right," Entre exhaled, the word having trouble leaving his throat. "...He said that?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"...72," Entre murmured, embarrassed by his surprise. "...He said that?"  
  
"Yeah, said that. Sure, you're a big fuck-up," Swag stated, "but that doesn't mean anyone here wants you to die. I told you I'd always have your back to the fucking end, and I mean that. Alright?"  
  
Entre paused, and then nodded. "...Yeah. Alright - it's the same for you, too." He paused. "I mean - listen. If I end up being the thing holding you up between going in and staying out - I... don't know why you'd want to stay out for my sake. I just mean - I don't know whether it's worth it." He cleared his throat. "I-"  
  
"Stop whining already," Swag grumbled. "We're here n' we're gonna stay by your side, like it or not. You told me you wouldn't give up."  
  
"...Right. I won't," Entre reaffirmed, hesitating. The entrepreneur chewed his lip, exhaling a soft wheeze. Maybe it was best just to drop the conversation before his needing doubts formed more words on his lips.  
He reached out a hand, squeezing Swag's in his own. "...Thanks." He paused. "...Glad to have you."  
  
"Psh. Alright, quit being gay," Swag teased, smiling a little as he gave a reassuring hand squeeze in return. "I'll scope the place out, and if we're lucky, there'll be a cure in place, n' they won't give you any issues. Alright? No matter what, we're sticking together."  
  
"Yeah, okay. I'll keep an eye on - everything over here, too," Entre murmured, nodding indirectly in the direction of Rocky's bed.  
  
"Yeah. Alright." Swag patted Entre's shoulder, before turning onto his back. "Try n' get some sleep tonight, okay?"  
  
"Yeah. I will," he doubted he could manage it - but... he could try. "You too."  
  
Swag yawned, already having turned over on his other side. "...Mmm-hmm..."  
  
...  
Entre stared at the ceiling - and continued to do so, for what felt like gradual hours.  
  
Sleep never came.  
  
And there, in the hushest hours of the night, he finally heard the faint picking at Rocky's guitar - it seemed someone else hadn't managed to sleep for long.  
  
Entre held his breath, listening to the vague strumming notes of what he knew to be _Highway to Hell.  
  
__"Livin' easy, lovin' free..."_ The chords followed Rocky's soft vocals, so quiet Entre almost didn't recognize his voice. "...Season ticket on a one-way... uh..."  
The notes began to swallow his voice, which had dropped to an uncertain murmur.  
"...Ah - come on. _Askin' nothin', leave me be..._ uh..."  
A note - the wrong note.  
Than a second attempt to play it.  
"...Ah, damn it."  
  
And he began to rehearse again.  
_Livin' easy, lovin' free...  
  
_Entre felt his heart sinking in his chest, turning his face just to make certain Swag had already dozed off.  
  
And he had -- oblivious.  
  
...  
Entre clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes shut.  
He was suddenly glad Swag hadn't been awake to hear it.  
He almost wished he'd been that lucky.


	3. Catabolic Seed

Swag lifted his head from the jeep, tucking a cigarette between his lips as he got a good view of the place.   
It wasn't quite what he imagined - but he wasn't so sure _what_ he imagined to begin with. Tall, grey, an outer wall that stretched as far as he could see. Barbed wire lined the top, two guards at each door. Very official - _fucking government._ Typical.  
But he guessed he had no room to complain if they were here to ask questions.  
  
Taking a moment to light up the cig, Swag pushed the jeep door open with his foot before standing just behind it, glaring around at the unfamiliar faces.  
Everyone there was dressed upwards and downwards in protective gear -- _guess it only makes sense._ It made Swag rub at his temple giving a shifting glance over to Dave, 72 and Beanpole as they, too, stepped outside.  
  
The party of four here to give the place a looking over. Swag had already decided not to get his hopes up.  
  
He'd decided not to give anything too much of a wait. Leaning over the door, he took a sultry drag from the substance in his hand, watching from afar as the two leaders and the other once-ler stalked off to begin discussing things. Rules, probably. Situations, whether or not there was a cure ready, whether or not Entre would be allowed inside - the like.  
  
Swag wasn't certain why it took him so long to start his own interrogation, but after a small adjustment period, he broke off from the vehicle and stalked gradually over to there one of the guards stood.  
  
He took a drag, exhaling a huff of smoke. "Hey. You got a cure developed yet?"  
  
The guard gave him what seemed like a funny look - hard to tell under all that gear.  
  
_Not used to people being right to the point?_ Swag cocked a brow irritably, waiting.  
  
"No. It's being developed in the lab." They answered stiffly, grouchily.  
  
"Lab?" Swag leaned in, perhaps too closely for comfort. "What lab?"  
  
The guard jabbed their thumb to the side, indicating to a white collection of tents a good distance away.  
  
"...Shit," Swag dismissed, sticking the cigarette moodily between his lips as he pulled away from the conversation for good. _So much for that._ A work-in-progress didn't mean shit, did it?  
It also didn't mean Entre's allowance inside was relevant, either. At least not yet. It didn't stand as a dealbreaker anymore.  
Not until the infected were taken care of. 72 had been determined to keep the group together, there was no way he'd be letting three people go just to get inside a wall.  
Swag was thankful for that. _Good call._  
  
He stopped briefly, though, before pivoting around again to face the guard. "...Can I get inside? I wanna look around." He gave a nearly pretentious squint at the person hiding behind all that facial wear.  
  
"No. Sorry. Not until you complete your blood test - just like the others," they reported back to him.  
  
Swag paused, the cigarette hanging limp in his mouth. "I'm immune." He cocked a brow. "See?" He tugged up his shirt, displaying mark upon mark left by the infected. "Oldest of those is... I dunno. Months old. More. Lost count."  
  
The guard flinched at the sight of the wounds, before shaking their head more fervently. "The standards still apply."  
  
"You can go to _the lab_ if you'd like to complete your testing," the other guard reported more stiffly, seeming somewhat disgruntled himself. "Though it is standard protocol never to let in anyone with a bite."  
  
_Probably never seen anyone immune before._ Swag nodded slowly, but didn't move. _Wonder what they'll think..._  
Because he couldn't help but to consider his prized slice of narcissism - the once-ler that couldn't die. The once-ler that was immune. The cherry bomb that threw himself to the wolves and came back clean.  
_Maybe if I tell them straight, they'll let me in.  
  
_And so with nothing more than a nod and an acknowledging grunt, Swag threw up a peace sign as he turned on his heel.  
And soon, he'd strode his way over to the lab, lifting a hand to shield the bleak sunlight from his eyes as he gave a quick look around. _Huh._ He breathed smoke.  
  
Removing his old sunglasses from his pocket and slipping them on, Swag took a peek inside one of the gates, infested with scientists, doctors, and spotted with the occasional patient, too.  
_Jeez._ Swag wondered if inquiring about Entre was still relevant - after all, it was possible the infected could still have a home in a place like this.  
The question was whether or not that would be a good thing. Swag couldn't stand another take like Entre's bullshit closet plan. People like One-ler didn't deserve to live their life in a cage.  
  
He glanced back and forth, slipping inside as not to clog the entrance as he stepped to the side, looking for an orderly, or some kind of blood testing site.  
  
After a bit of scrounging around, he managed to lock eyes with someone apt for the job. Taking the cigarette from his lips, Swag strode over, pulling his sunglasses down slightly. "Are you the one doin' blood tests around here?"  
  
"I am," the woman responded, quirking a brow at his abrasive entry. "You must be one of the newcomers - with that _72,_ correct?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right," Swag rested a hand on his lip, letting the other dangle at his side.  
  
"Then you've already heard about the state of the cure," the woman paused, tidying a stack of papers before resting them atop a table to her side.  
  
"Work in progress?" Swag inquired.  
  
"That's right. Was there something else you needed?"  
  
Swag opened his mouth, but paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. This all still felt like too much of a vague promise to risk so much on, even with the building stretched out before them. Swag had no idea what kinds of things took place within the walls. "...Yeah. I'm immune to the virus. Think I could get a look around inside the walls, or some shit?"  
  
"Immune?" She blinked.  
  
"Yeah. Fuckin' immortal," he boasted with some sudden push for leverage, pulling his shirt up to reveal, once again, countless healed over bites and scratch marks. "Got more of them, too. All over me. They go back to last fuckin' year."  
  
-Upon seeing the marks, the woman immediately took a step back, clearing her throat irritably as she took a closer look. "...Hm. I wouldn't say immune. We've had many cases like yours before - no effects, yes, but still a carrier of the virus, like any other disease."  
  
...Swag blinked a few times, snatching the sunglasses off his face. "...Is that some kinda joke? I've spent time neck n' neck with people at the camp, and I haven't spread anything. I'm not a carrier."  
  
She grew stern. "There have been many cases like yours, as I've said before - the infection does not spread _directly,_ as you know. It travels through bite or scratch marks. Saliva and other substances _entering the bloodstream._ Fluid-to-fluid contact. You may not show _symptoms_ , yes, but it's more than likely you still _carry_ the infection."  
  
...  
Swag paused, the clever words falling from his mouth. He scrambled to pull them up from the floor as his mouth hung slightly agape. A look that made him look like an _idiot._  
"...Bullshit," he breathed out, the word suddenly lacking any power. "...Bullshit, man. Bullshit..." He shook his head firmly, but only once.  
  
With a quick huff, the woman beckoned before stepping away. "Here, we keep carriers in the other tent, come on. I'll show you."  
  
Swag paused, watching as she exited. Why did he suddenly feel such a _weight_ clamping down on his heart? Why did a buzz suddenly fill up his lungs as he tried to speak?  
The conversation was so simple, yet felt like it was rewriting something engraved so deeply into his self-image.  
  
...But he followed nonetheless, ducking between passing scientists and under various tent flaps.  
  
Finally, Swag exhaled as he reached a small, darkened encampment parked off to the side of the business. Squinting around the interior of the structure, it was easy to locate a population of people existing inside.  
  
Many looked up as the two entered, but many didn't. Milling about living out their lives.  
  
And Swag froze in the doorway as the scientist pulled one person aside, giving them a brief word: "Do you mind showing our visitor some of your old bite wounds?"  
  
The child - they couldn't have been any more than sixteen - glanced up tiredly at Swag, a distant look in his eye. "Hm? Oh - sure, I can..." Then, meeting Swag's gaze, he lifted an arm, peeling back a sleeve away from the scarred skin beneath.  
  
Lining up and down the flesh were scratch and bite marks in several odd places.  
  
It made the breath catch at the back of Swag's throat.  
  
"How long are some of these bite marks?" The woman questioned, leaning down and tilting her head tenderly.  
  
"...I'unno..." the kid answered. "...Months - like... half a year. Maybe some more..."  
  
"...I see, you're free to go," the lady dismissed, releasing the child as she stood to her full height and turned to Swag. "That's a carrier." She swept an arm to gesture around the room. "Everyone here is just like him. Marked up like that - from long, long ago, but still carrying the disease. All of them have tested positive."  
  
...  
Swag didn't speak. He listened to her words, but the longer she spoke, the more a dull ring buzzed in his ear drums. Staring _through_ her, as the weight of her words suddenly began to press against him.  
He felt himself hollowing - _Entre's sick._ Was that because he'd been around him?  
Did every kiss they'd shared been a spread of the virus? Every breath they passed between them as they lay staring at each other each night?  
The once-immortal Swag, suddenly stripped in moments down to what he truly was - _what, some kind of fucking fraud?_ Not 'immune,' just someone lucky enough not to turn.  
It didn't make him safe.  
Not to be around, anyway.  
... _Me.  
I'm...  
I'm a-  
  
_"Is that all?" The woman interrupted, but Swag had already pulled away, ducking his head down in some mix of anger and shame. The ringing still drummed against his ears, rattling his mind around in nervous little circles.  
  
_I'm a danger.  
I'm a fucking infected. I'm a slug with my skin still on.  
  
_He trudged directionlessly, letting his immediate memory steer him in the correct direction.  
He'd felt so unkillable. He'd felt so - _special_ before then.  
He suddenly felt so sick, as if he could feel the countless infected germs crawling around under his skin.  
  
Swag had felt untouchable. Every mission felt like a fun trip. Every brag felt warranted - being bulletproof had been his purpose.  
  
And now - not only was it stripped away, raw and worn and pulsing beneath the armor - he was one of so, so many people who'd probably once thought they were _special_ somehow.  
  
He stopped abruptly, resting a hand on the jeep. He realized suddenly that he had wandered back to where he'd started, but he couldn't muster the will to lift his head _.  
  
_Swag stared daggers into the ground, shutting his eyes as he took a moment to _breathe,_ slowly. Processing. Slowly...  
  
...He heard a few footfalls closing in on him, causing the other to look up warily. "What?" Swag grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the approaching 72.  
  
Entre's old mentor folded his hands, hesitating. "...It seems our business here is done, if you've seen your fill." The older man hesitated. "...It would seem to be like you've heard their will. If it helps to ease your concern, I stand by what I said before. We aren't gong to be leaving Entre behind, that's the last thing we came here for."  
  
... _Entre._ Swag lifted his head, a deep frown creasing across his lips. "...They won't take Entre, huh. They fuckin' told you that?"  
  
72 nodded slowly. "Indeed. I had assumed you'd heard that, too. Is there something _else_ that's bothering you?"  
  
"...Nah. Fuck it," Swag put off, pausing as he gave an aggravated sigh and pulled himself inside of the jeep.  
He paused, mouth hanging open - a confession hanging off the tip of his tongue - but, no.  
It remained there, before disappearing back into his throat.  
_...Better if I do this alone.  
  
_"No cure, either. Guess this isn't the spot." He suddenly hated the sound of his own voice.  
  
A strange part of Swag wished he'd asked about Entre first - because he'd have turned tail the moment Entre was unwelcome in the self-proclaimed 'safe haven.'  
...  
But no. It was unfair to say he wished he hadn't heard it.  
  
Because even as he felt himself shattering slowly into fragments, his world rearranging itself into a mangled, distorted view of his previous lens, he knew.  
No. _I deserve it.  
  
I deserve to know.  
  
_A bitter taste formed at the back of his mouth.  
  
_...Now I gotta live with it._


	4. Sweet Hibiscus Tea

And soon enough, the jeep was parked again, but Swag had trouble displacing himself from the back seat for a while.  
The irony - it felt like spit across his face.  
  
He was the only one 'immune' to the virus all along, and now he was the only one who couldn't be cured. A carrier, but not infected.  
No infection, no cure. He would always be a danger to them all, wouldn't he? How the tables turned in terrible ways.  
  
So Swag would never be allowed inside the walls - he grimaced imagining himself stuck into one of those minuscule tents, to be subject to tests all day.  
But that threat paled in comparison to the fears manifesting about _Entre's sickness._  
He could be infected - the last person he fucking cared about. Infected. _Because of me.  
  
_And if he wasn't infected now, then he could be. He _would_ be. They all could be, since they'd stopped the ritual of putting masks on every day. _Shit._ He kicked the empty front seat of the jeep violently, gritting his teeth. _Fuck._  
  
Every way he looked at the issue, Swag held the same role. A danger, a roadblock. Something to hold them back.  
He ground his booted heel into the cushion of the seat, exhaling a long, tired breath.  
  
_Jeez. I'm fucking them all over.  
  
_And he sat there for distant seconds, staring at nothing, churning wordless solutions inside his head.  
It was already late in the day, but he let the minutes drain away in his invisible hour glass. Later and later as the day went by. Coming to a decision.  
  
...  
He'd have to pack his shit.  
  
Swag exited the car, brushing off his clothes and exhaling an aggravated breath.  
Popping open the RV door with one hand, he hesitated in the walkway as he found Entre inside, fast asleep on his bed. _...At least he's resting._ Jeez.  
  
Swag moved around him, not worrying too much about making a ruckus. His tent - where was it? And his camping gear - _shit._ And his megaphone, would he need that?  
He located it on the bedside, resting a hand on it, but hesitating.  
-Then drawing the hand back suddenly, wiping it off on his coat. _Why would I need that?_ He'd have no one to yell at. No one left to hear his noise.  
With a hesitant exhale, he turned his back on the device, returning to the camping gear.  
  
_This, some food..._ would that be enough? Besides - what, weapons? He wouldn't dare take Entre's crossbow, but maybe his sickle, or something...  
  
Swag heard Entre stirring behind him, and he stopped moving, slinging his camping gear over one shoulder.  
  
There on the bed, Entre shifted onto his stomach, drawing open a tired eye and letting it slink slowly up to Swag's facial features.  
"...Mmmnn... hey, dude..."  
  
"...Hey, nerd," Swag said as casually as he could muster, not finding the heart to channel much spirit into the greeting.  
  
"You go out already?" Entre yawned, sitting up in bed as he rubbed his eyes. "...We get to go...? Or..."  
  
"...Nah. Fuckers don't have a cure," Swag sighed, continuing to look around for anything else he might need. "And no. Assholes said they wouldn't take you in - unless it was to press charges for your big fuckup. So fuck 'em, man. We don't need their shitty safe haven."  
  
Entre nodded drearily, seeming to be troubled by the statement. The same sad look he always got when someone held his mistakes against him.  
After a few moments of Entre coming to, he reached out a hand, attempting to take Swag's in his own. "Hey-"  
  
Swag jerked his hand away, snatching his sickle off the table instead to excuse the sudden movement. "Aren't getting gay on me, are you?" Swag distracted.  
  
"...No, I'm not. You just look - well. Like shit, if you don't mind me saying." Entre propped up his pillow, leaning back against it as he turned his head to the side, attempting to catch Swag's gaze.  
  
...  
Swag looked at him.  
... _Should I tell him?_ They were trying to get into the habit of honesty, right? Two fuck-ups against the world.  
But Swag was so, so much more of a fuck-up than he'd realized before.  
And if he was going to _leave them,_ didn't they deserve to know why?  
  
Swag's lips pressed tightly together, creasing naturally into a scowl.  
Would it - feel better to say something, instead of denying Entre physical affection out of fear? Which made him less of a man? Which made him more of the fuck-up he already was?  
  
His grip tightened on his camping gear, glancing down at his other hand - gloved. Safe? Or was it still riddled in his own infection?  
  
_Infection,_ something he'd felt so pompously towards. Some bulletproof idol he was now, second-guessing his own ability to _touch_ another person. How the mighty fell from grace.  
  
He opened his mouth to mention it: _'I'm fucking infected.'_ But he didn't.  
Where was his loud mouth now? The one that said whatever was on his mind? Because he didn't care?  
  
Because he was scared of being pursued - he convinced himself that was why. Because if he was leaving, he didn't want to be stopped.  
Not because he was scared of exposing that vulnerable center of his emotions, the one that wavered back and forth with his every passing heartbeat.  
  
... _No. Fuck it. What the fuck are you doing, man? Man up._ He had to tell Entre.  
But as he opened his mouth again: "I-"  
  
Entre's wheeze cut him off, the other exhaling a ragged cough into his elbow. Then another - and another. "-Sorry," he managed as he came up for air, shaking his head. "I'm fine - I'll - uh, take my medicine, don't worry about it."  
  
Swag waved a hand, which dissolved mid-way through the gesture into a finger gun. "Good. Take it, get better soon." He ruffled the others hair in a fleeting farewell gesture before pulling away.  
  
He started for the door, leaning back to watch as Entre got up, shuffling tiredly over to a cabinet to fetch his medication.  
...And Swag watched him.  
For what might have been the last time, he watched him. An ache welled in his throat. _Swag. Fucking coward._ Leaving behind all the people he cared about - leaving behind the person he might've fucked over.  
  
Entre was full of mistakes, but at least he'd actually tried to tie up his loose ends. What was Swag doing? Running away?  
  
"Yo, asshole," Swag piped up, leaning against the wall. "Look here."  
  
"...Huh? What...?" Entre glanced back, having just popped a tablet into his mouth.  
  
"...You've been testing my blood, right?"  
  
Entre lifted a cup of water to his lips, taking a quick swig. "Yeah - why?"  
  
"...Not immune," he reported finally. "Well, not like that, anyway. They told me when I was over there. I'm a fucking carrier - just not one that gets any symptoms."  
  
"..." Entre paused, swallowing hard. "What do you mean?"  
  
Swag glanced away. "Not immune. Apparently there are a bunch of assholes like me - who don't turn, but still carry the disease around. And can infect other people, or some shit. Just so you know."  
  
"..." Entre paused, expression quelling into something serious. "..." He chewed his lip, glancing away and mulling over the information. "...Are you - uh... feeling okay?"  
  
"Don't be a gay, dude," Swag dodged the question. "I'm gonna go for a walk." He'd considered taking the RV or jeep - but stranding his friends would have been an undeniable dick move. Especially after he'd fucked up the engine of the former in a fit of anger.  
Least he could do is leave it to the people who needed it.  
"Now don't go n' do any stupid shit, alright? Because I'm not gonna be around to save your stupid ass if you do." He pointed a finger at Entre.  
  
"I won't...! I'm grounded, I know," Entre complained. "You're taking the camping gear?"  
  
"Good." Swag opened the door, giving Entre one last look. He neglected the latter half of the question. "Don't worry about it. It's late anyway. Get some more sleep."  
  
"I just slept-!" Entre protested.  
  
"Good. Then sleep some more. You need it if you're gonna get better." Swag leaned back, just to meet Entre's gaze.  
He could assure himself - just by looking at him - that he was disease free. Right? Just like Entre insisted every day - all he had was a cough. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing complicated.  
And he'd get better.  
  
...  
And like that, he left.  
  
Once outside, Swag finally released a trapped breath of air, rubbing tiredly at his brow. _Fucking christ._ What was done was done, he'd already decided.  
Rocky, One and Entre. The people that Swag held dearest - they didn't need him anymore.  
Two were fucked, but Swag could believe that they'd overcome their ailments somehow.  
And Entre...  
 _Entre..._  
  
Swag had made up his mind the second he'd left the van - if he was a danger to the camp, one that was irreversible, and inevitably held them back, then he'd leave.  
An invisible threat, one that had made a home in too many hearts.  
He was barred from the safe haven, had no useful blood in his body, and was just a stain on their chain of survivors. A slug that wouldn't wear himself out.  
  
Maybe it was best that it was wordless. It was just dark enough to be considered the perfect time for the great escape.  
If he was lucky, no one would go looking for him. It'd be a little ironic if he went down some symbol of heroism, when he was really just an illness that dressed nice for the camera.  
  
Jeez.  
He patted a pistol at one side, eyeing a knife at the other.  
_Yeah. That works._  
  
The easiest solution was to take himself out of the equation, no lingering thoughts. No second guesses. No attachments, no complications. None of that wishy-washy bullshit.  
If everyone else was going to hold him near and dear, then he wouldn't let them.  
  
Swag against the world - all over again.  
And he could take his disease, his danger, his reckless thoughts, and his bleeding weaknesses with him.  
  
Spreading his stance, giving the great unknown a glare right in the face, Swag put a cigarette between his lips and started into the darkness.


	5. Death, Thrice Drawn

Entre watched through the window as Swag left him.  
  
A pack slung over his shoulder, only the faint glow of a cigarette illuminating his face, he disappeared into the maze of trees.  
  
...And that was enough to concern Entre out of his tired spell. His clothes were easy enough to pull on - the jacket, the pants, the backward hat.  
Then, tugging on his shoes, Entre stepped outside into the crisp night air, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders.  
The darkness was more biting than he was used to. Perhaps it came with illness - devolving into a state of mild shivering as he stumbled half-awake after Swag's disappearing form.  
  
_Camping gear... why does he need camping gear?_  
The logical answer was that Swag was _leaving._ Leaving for a long time - but...

 _Why? Why would he - be leaving?_ Entre's immediate thoughts blamed himself for his own insolences, but even that seemed like a fleeting possibility. Something was going on.  
  
Entre clenched his jaw with a strenuous exhale as he trudged tirelessly after Swag.  
  
He wasn't too far ahead. It was easy to trace the other's tracks based on the distant sound of his disappearing steps.  
  
Entre pressed onward, ducking under a low-hanging branch as he took one last glance to the encampment disappearing behind the both of them.  
  
And finally, turning his face back, Entre opened his mouth to call for Swag, but felt an unsteady breath catching in his throat.  
All at once, Entre coughed awkwardly, fumbling forward as he rested himself against a tree, pressing the next few coughs into the silencing palms of his gloved hands.  
  
...But the movement ahead of him stopped.  
"...The fuck is that?" Swag's voice called. "...Entre...?"  
  
The other glanced up wearily, rubbing at his temple as he pulled himself up from his resting place. "...Yeah - it's me - Swag...?"  
  
After a brief fit of rustling bushes, Swag appeared from the darkness, eyes narrowed in uncertain, twisted emotion. "...The fuck are you doing out here?"  
  
"...I could ask you the same thing," Entre countered, holding his ground as he stood up, straighter than before.  
  
"...Yeah, well I'm not the one sick. I thought we already talked about you needing to start giving a shit about your own life," Swag growled. _  
  
"_ What about _your_ health?" Entre brought up. "You're going out - _alone -_ late at night! It's a suicide mission!"  
  
Swag took a quick drag from his cigarette, the embers at the end illuminating his face eerily. "I'll be fine. I'm always fine. Just a supply run, dude."  
  
"With your _camping gear?"_ Entre challenged, cocking a brow at the pack slung over one of Swag's shoulders. "...You're-" He hesitated, before his voice faltered into a whisper. " _...You're leaving._ Aren't you?"  
  
Swag didn't say anything immediately, smoke billowing through his nose.  
  
_...Is that a yes?_ Entre suddenly worried that his assumptions were correct - and this all _was_ about him. _Why?_ But he knew Swag better than that -- he chewed his lip.  
"...Can we talk about this? You - really seem to need to talk about this. I mean..." He trailed off.  
  
"..." Swag looked away, shifting his weight between his feet. "I already told you I'm shit with words." He did manage to meet his gaze, though, the fire behind his eyes melting away into something hardened and helpless.  
  
...Entre clenched his jaw, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Is this... 'cause of your immunity...?" He tried. It made sense, considering he'd run away right after talking about it. And Swag had always drawn so much self-importance from his own ability to be 'bulletproof'...  
  
"...You can just ask me straight, dipshit," Swag muttered, wiping at his brow.  
  
"Ask you _what?_ " Entre pointed out. "You keep dodging all my questions! Just - talk to me! Where are you going and _why?_ We promised each other that we'd have each others backs, remember?"  
  
"Yeah. This _is_ me having your back," Swag dropped his cigarette on the ground, extinguishing its luminescence with the twist of his heel. "I'm a fucking infected, dumbfuck. Just like One, n' Ted. And _Rocky._ I might not show it, but I carry the disease. Makes me just as dangerous." He rested a hand on his backpack strap again, squeezing it tight.  
  
"You think you're... doing me a _favor_ by leaving...?" Entre exhaled slowly, rubbing his arm with his free hand. _Ah..._ He suddenly felt the desire to bring up Swag's earlier talks. _You said you needed me - and... I need you, too. _But bringing up earlier words of desperation felt selfish and wrong.  
...But so did _this.  
"...You're not, _Swag. I - don't want you to leave."  
  
"Yeah, and I don't want you to get the fucking flu because of me either," Swag retorted. "You're-" He exhaled sharply, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "-The last fucking person I have, and I'm not gonna throw your life away by sticking around." Swag cleared his throat.  
  
"But I haven't been infected yet!" Entre insisted, jabbing a thumb towards himself. "And I've been in the thick of it for a while now-" He choked down a cough, stomaching the gesture to continue rapidly speaking. "And I'm fine! I can just, I don't know, wear my mask around again! Going away isn't what we want! It's like - you said about 72, we aren't a group if we leave anyone behind. _I_ am _not_ going to leave you behind!"  
  
Swag looked away, cutting Entre off: _"-Besides._ Even if you assholes get a cure, I don't get through those fucking gates. I'm not gonna be the factor that keeps you all outside and sick."  
  
Entre's eyes widened, jabbing his thumb more fervently towards himself. "Neither can I! I'm just as much of a roadblock of getting in there as you are...!" And then it all fell together, causing Entre's voice to reach a hush. He hesitated, wiping his hand off on his jacket. "...Listen, man. You and I - we're both the people keeping everyone outside the safe haven. They aren't losing anyone if - if I go _with_ you." His words fumbled from his mouth, but his tone sounded certain.  
  
"No fucking way," Swag cut off.  
  
" _Listen_ to me, Swag!" Entre was caught off by the biting tone of his own voice. "...Please. We promised each other that we'd take care of ourselves - and each other. I know how I can keep myself from being infected! We're _partners_ in this - I'm not just gonna let you give up because you think you're some kind of threat!"  
  
...Swag drew a hand against his mouth, suddenly not making eye contact.  
  
...Think, think, think. Entre wasn't always the best at being a calming presence for anyone - much less Swag, who always pushed him away. But he _needed_ to reach him. _What does he need to hear?_ "...You aren't any less important to us just 'cause you're a carrier. Alright?"  
  
He had Swag's eye contact now.  
  
Entre continued: "...I have an idea. We want the rest of everyone in the safe haven. Right?"  
  
"...Right," Swag indulged.  
  
Entre nodded. "...Right. I had an idea a long time ago... I know why your blood wasn't helping with a cure now, but back when I wasn't sure - I considered getting some samples from the original source of the virus." He paused, exhaling a racking cough into his hand, before continuing. "I didn't have any station to settle at, though, and... no test subjects aside from people I cared about. Now, I know I burned my factory down, but I always wondered if we _went back..._ we'd be able to find something."  
  
"...You want to _go back to your factory?_ "  
  
"Or the lab nearby! I had botanists that helped me to-" Entre paused, hating the subject. "...You know. Engineer the truffula trees." He pressed his hands together.  
"...We aren't going to be useful here. _I_ won't be useful here - all I've done is fuck up." _No one here needs me. No one here would miss me. No one here wants me around - I just ruined their lives and couldn't even help them._ "But - if you and I... and Rocky, n' One and Ted - if we all went together..." He pressed his lips together, hoping he wouldn't sound like an absolute idiot.  
"...Then everyone else could go into the safe haven - and we could try and find the cure." It felt like such a fruitless confession. They'd gone on so, so long with no hope of a cure, and now they were going to stake their lives on it?  
But somehow Bitter's final words seeped back into his guilty conscience, that fragment of a hope that had caused Entre so much grief. That dangerous belief that _Entre_ could fix this. And Bitter's promise that he would.  
"...And if we die trying - well..." he looked down, before looking back up, gaze tense. "Then at least we die _trying_ instead of lying around, waiting for something to happen."  
  
Entre stepped closer, relieved to see that Swag allowed his approach.  
"...Because-" he managed to conjure every ounce of power he held into his stance. "I'm not just going to let you give up - so please, Swag. Let's do this together. I want - to do this, _together._ " He extended his hand, gaze heating up with the same fire that had extinguished from his partner's eyes only moments before. "You with me?" He raised his voice slightly.  
  
...Swag's eyes closed.  
And he paused for what felt like an unbearably long time.  
Then, after a moment of thinking, he lifted his gaze again, a smirk worming its way onto his face. "...You crazy _motherfucking_ bastard."  
He gripped Entre's hand tight.  
  
...! A delighted smile managed to make its way onto Entre's face for a fleeting moment. "Are we doing this, then?"  
  
"...Makes a lot of sense," Swag admitted, pulling his hand back and circling a finger in the air. "Pack your shit in the jeep, hot stuff. And go get the others. We've got a fucking road trip to end all road trips coming up."  
  
Entre nodded eagerly, pressing his lips together to hide his smile as a pink flush found his cheeks. "Got it." There was no going back now.  
  
As Entre turned away, stalking back with Swag in tow, he pondered briefly the likelihood of his death.  
He was leaving - without even a goodbye. He was leaving behind so many people.  
And even if he felt useless to them - even if he was certain he'd only weighed them down...  
  
_Dave._ His secretary - who'd been there to help him put Bitter out of his misery. Who'd been there with him since before the apocalypse even started.  
And 72, his mentor, who sometimes felt more to him like a father than any member of Entre's actual family. Who had stepped forward to act the leader in the wake of Entre's mess.  
And everyone: the group his mentor had been so determined to keep together. His found family.  
  
For a moment, Entre's hands closed into fists.  
...Was it really okay of him to just - leave...?  
_...I was only a problem for them, anyway. I always have been._ This was the right thing to do.  
  
And with a shaky exhale, Entre stared at his open palms.  
And he let it all go.


	6. Don't Wait Up

Entre took a fleeting glance back at Swag, who was busying himself with the jeep.  
If this was going to work, then they had three people to recruit on their suicide mission.  
  
Entre was a stranger to One - sharing only a few conversations with him, and a fair bit of rough history. _I guess that goes for me and about anyone, huh._ He wouldn't have been shocked if no one here wanted a thing to do with him.  
As per usual, Swag was the familiar face that was looked up to and adored - while Entre was not.  
_I deserve it.  
  
_However, Rocky had always been dependable. He could never remember a conversation where the other had been angry at him. _I think he might listen to me if I ask._ That was all he had to hope for.  
  
Returning to the RV, Entre paused as he considered his circumstances.  
Then, without ceremony, he popped the door open and took a quick glance inside.  
  
He found Rocky exactly where he'd left him, asleep in the corner on his makeshift cot.  
Clearing his throat, Entre approached, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hesitant hand on the other's shoulder. "...Rocky?"  
  
...Rocky stirred, raising a hand to shield his face as he turned slowly onto his back. "Mmm - Entre...?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me..." Entre exhaled a relieved breath as the other recognized him. "Uh - I've got something to ask you. Well, tell you. You ready to hear it?"  
  
"All ears, yeah." The other exhaled a brief sigh, sitting forward and rubbing the back of his neck, brushing off sleep.  
  
"Alright." Entre pressed his fingertips together, exhaling a brief huff of air as he chose his words. "...Swag and I can't get in to the safe haven - no matter what. I'm blacklisted, and he's a carrier of the flu, turns out."  
  
Rocky glanced up, a brief shine of concern flashing across his gaze. "He is?"  
  
"-Still immune, but he can spread it, he said. He's not in any danger, though." Entre hesitated, before going on. "...So we figured that we were going to leave camp. Everyone else can go inside the wall to safety - and we can take on the road ourselves, and see if we can bring a cure back. Hoping you, One and Ted might feel - inclined to come and help."  
  
Rocky nodded slowly, his tongue poking thoughtfully into his cheek. "...Got it." A faint smile managed to find his lips. "And you guys already made up your minds on that, huh?"  
  
Enter winced, worried he was already losing him. "Well, for the most part, yeah. Might get a little screwy if we don't manage to get all three of you, but-"  
  
"Hey," Rocky cut in, waving a hand with a cheeky smile. "Don't worry about me." With a brief stretch, the rockstar stood up, casting the other a finger gun and a familiar wink. "I'm always ready to rock - count me in."  
  
Entre's face lit up with near-instant gratification. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, of course. Come on up," Rocky offered Entre a hand, helping him briefly up from the bed. "Wouldn't be the first time we had a rough n' tumble while we were a little under the weather." Pausing, Rocky's eyes moved over Entre, before giving the ex-entrepreneur an encouraging pat on the shoulder.  
"Just need One and the kid now?"  
  
"Swag's got One," Entre informed. "Thinking we could get Ted. Just because Swag had been acting so weird around him... I just worry - because..." He hesitated. He didn't think Rocky _knew_ about his murder attempt. But Entre knew everyone in the camp had disapproved of Entre's keeping of Ted in a closet for so long.  
  
Rocky met Entre's gaze. "Hey, listen." He waited for Entre's eyes to meet his before going on. "...I'm sure the kid'll be fine. He rolls with the punches - and he's been feeling better about the both of you, as far as I can tell. Sure he'd listen to you." Rocky exhaled, before a smug grin found his face. "Now, listen here. You ready to take on the world? You, me, Swag and the rest of the band?"  
  
"..." Entre smiled faintly. "...Yeah, I am."  
  
"And are you _ready,_ " Rocky continued, raising his voice a little more. "To put your life on the line, man? You ready to go out in the great unknown, and come back _victorious?_ "  
  
Entre chuckled softly, before giving an eager nod. "-Yeah, I am."  
  
"And," Rocky added one final point, "are you _ready_ to fight and find for that cure? Are you ready to come back alive? Show the world what for?"  
  
\--His face formed a full smile now. "Sure am. Are you?"  
  
"You can count on it." Rocky grinned, scooping his bag off the floor as he flashed a 'rock on' hand gesture over his shoulder. "Let's rock n' roll."  
  
Entre laughed softly, feeling the off-tempo beatings of his heart accelerate with dangerous excitement.  
  
Stepping out into the darkness outside, Entre and Rocky silently passed Swag, still loading up the jeep - no sign of One, yet.  
_He'll probably get to it in a second._ Enter cast a fleeting glance, before sucking in a breath and stalking around for Ted's tent.  
  
Entre found himself hesitating outside, having another recollection of his previous visit to the child's resting place. "...Maybe," the entrepreneur mumbled, glancing back at Rocky. "You should - go first."  
  
"...Got it," Rocky didn't question, unzipping the entrance and poking his head inside.  
  
Entre followed closely after.  
  
After waking Ted gently with a shake of the shoulder, Enter and Rocky exchanged a quick glance. And from there came the explanation.  
Entre lead the discussion, being the person who'd come up with the idea in the first place.  
The same information all over again - to leave the camp, to try and find the cure, and to let everyone who remained go away into the safety of the walls.  
Entre paused, before concluding his explanation: "And - well. We were hoping you might come with us. It's... not really like we're going to go into the safe haven either way."  
He paused before he could go on, falling silent at Ted's shell-shocked expression.  
There was more Entre could say, but he felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him. _No..._ he didn't want to say anything more. Ted had already been placed under too much pressure from others before, those using the simple excuse of adulthood or leadership. If Ted was coming, Entre hoped it would be because he _wanted_ to go.  
Entre and Swag both had played their hand at pushing the kid around - Entre remembered all too vividly. He didn't want to be guilty of it again - especially not now, so his jaw shut tight, and his hands clenched nervously.  
  
"..." Ted glanced down, clearing his throat. "We'd - have to leave right now?" He assessed.  
  
"Yeah - yeah." Entre paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. "We're packing up our stuff right now. Uh - best not to waste any time."  
...Entre couldn't help but to expect hesitance. He could recall another instance of asking Ted to risk his life, only to be met with a direct _no._ It felt so dangerous to hinge their entire mission on Ted's participation, but did they have a choice otherwise?  
  
\--Entre coughed, suddenly, bringing his hands up to his face as he chortled and wheezed. Once the ex-entrepreneur was able to catch his breath, he waved a hand, exhaling a shaky breath. "Sorry..."  
  
...Ted squeezed his own arms, glancing down at his feet.  
He breathed in - then out. And then he finally glanced up.  
"...Uh - I'll go." He managed.  
  
Entre's breath caught in his throat. "...You'll go?"  
  
"Yeah. I - will..." Ted paused, before nodding slowly. "If it means Mister 72 and Dave and everyone else will be okay then - I want to do it."  
  
Entre exhaled a relieved sigh, nodding quietly. "...Alright. Thank you, Ted. We couldn't have done it without you." He paused, crossing his arms. "...Uh... get your stuff - we have to be ready to go."  
Quickly.  


~~~

Swag knew One would agree.  
One followed him everywhere he went - because they were friends, and One didn't have many lifelines. He wasn't the type to make great attachments, and those he did have were with the group leaving.  
What did One have to lose?

Nothing, hopefully.  
Swag didn't want to leave him behind.

So Swag waited until everything was packed. He patted the back of the jeep one last time before slinging a golf club over his shoulder and going off to find One-ler.

Their conversation was about as brief as he'd predicted.  
Swag stuck his head into One's tent, addressing him quickly. "Hey."

...One's yellow eyes glowed eerily in the dark. "What?" His voice was gruff, body unmoving as he continued to stare up at his visitor.

"Getting in the jeep - Entre, Poprocks, the Kid n' I are gonna leave camp for good. Wanna come?" Swag rested a hand on his hip, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at his friend. "I can tell you details on the way."

"...Sounds good," One-ler stated bluntly in response, grumbling as he rose up to his feet, slinging his Hello Kitty backpack over one shoulder.

And that was that.

~~

Everything had been stowed away.  
The dead of night had fallen, washing them all in a bleak, uncertain darkness under the waxing moon.

The five stood in a lopsided circle around the jeep, an air of finality driving itself into the silence between them.

"...Alright." Entre circled around the jeep. "I - uh... left a note in the RV. Just letting everyone know why we're gone - and not to come after us." Entre crossed his arms again. "...Not sure it's safe to give anyone else a direct goodbye - I don't want this to be something that becomes a debate topic."

"Nah - you're right," Swag agreed, popping open the front door and settling down in the driver's seat, hand resting on the steering wheel. "Better go now." He leaned his head back, staring at everyone as he pushed a cigarette between his lips. "...Well, _come on,_ assholes. Get in."

And, leaving any uncertainty behind, the quintet piled in.

As Entre reached out a hand to get into the back seat, he felt Swag take his arm, pulling him back. "Nah. Get in the front, nerd. You're sitting next to me."

And with a gracious smile, Entre took his place in the passenger's side.

Once all the doors were shut, Entre sat up in his seat, and turning around to face the group. "Uh - before we go... a run down of the plan. We're headed back to my old factory - or at least the general location. So when we get a little closer, there'll be spores in the air again. So at some point, we're going to have to - uh..." He paused, surveying the four _infected_ staring back at him. "...Well. _I'll_ have to put my mask back on. Until then... we'll drive, and try and be there as soon as possible. Move a little bit each day - I'm sure we can figure things out as we go. Sound good?"

He was met with a various amount of affirmations and nods, to which Entre gave a nod back. "Alright."  
The entrepreneur sat back down in his seat, exhaling a brief sigh.  
...It felt nice, he realized as he tugged on his seat belt.  
It felt nice to be trusted in a _leadership position_ again.

He could only hope that he'd be able to maintain it this time.

...The engine revved to life beneath them.

Entre felt Rocky behind him, leaning forward to murmur into his ear. "Hey... you ever ridden with Swag before?"

"...Not in the jeep, no," Entre answered.

"...Then you might wanna hold onto something," the rockstar advised.

And before Entre had time to react, Swag had already taken a firm grip of the wheel, leaning forward as he analyzed the road ahead.

And, with a wild smile, he floored the gas, and they catapulted forward.


	7. Space Jam

The silence only lasted a small while.  
The moment the group had distanced themselves a fair amount from the previous camp, Swag finally spoke.  
  
Taking a glance over his shoulder at the road, he looked forward. "Alright, shit's way too quiet." He leaned back over his seat, surveying the three infected sitting in the back. "One, you got that Hello Kitty backpack still? Let's hear somethin' good."  
  
One-ler glanced down at his feet, before leaning forward and lifting his white backpack onto his lap.  
The shades of his gothic attire clashed abruptly with the bright, cartoony face of Hello Kitty plastered to the front of the bag.  
  
Entre always figured it added character.  
"What's that thing play?" The entrepreneur asked.  
  
"Space Jam." One-ler deadpanned, a vague smile tugging at his lips.  
  
"Space Jam?" Swag asked, smirking suddenly. He pointed a gloved finger at Ted, evidently not watching the road. "Kid. You ever heard Space Jam?"  
  
Ted blinked, evidently not having expected to be put on the spot. He shook his head after a second. "Uh - no..."  
  
"First timer, huh." Swag sat back in his seat, watching the road. "Alright, princess. Turn that shit up, we gotta show the kid the ropes."  
  
_The ropes?_ Entre gave a bemused chuckle, leaning back in his seat as he watched the scenery pass by.  
  
Soon enough, _Space Jam_ was playing - since it was the only song they had.  
  
The moment the music started, Swag's eyes weren't on the road. He and Rocky had made direct eye contact, and they started singing - far too loudly - in succession.  
  
_"Everybody get up, It's time to slam now!"_  
  
...Entre, exhaling a light-hearted sigh, kept a concerned eye on the road and the two continued their rendition.  
He figured the noise wouldn't cause too great a problem - so long as they stopped a mile or so before their stopping point. _I'll... just remind them.  
_After a minute or two, he felt Swag nudging on his shoulder.  
The entrepreneur glanced over.  
  
"Come on, nerd," Swag shouted enthusiastically. "You know the words! Sing with us, man!"  
  
...Entre then reluctantly joined the duo in an enthusiastic rendition of the rest of the song.  
And, he had to admit - it was fun.  
  
Eventually the singing wound down, and Entre found himself restless. He stared out of the jeep's window, tired eyes surveying the fleeting landscape.  
...He felt a tap on his shoulder again, and returned his eyes over to Swag.  
"Hm?"  
  
Swag kept one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the back of his cat seat. His eyes seemed to be trained on the road ahead now, at the very least.  
"When you gonna need to put your mask back on? You're the only one of us that isn't carrying, 'ya know."  
  
"-Yeah, I know," Entre admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "...Not sure. I guess I could do it now, just to be careful."  
  
"Yeah. Get your stupid gas mask on," Swag instructed, a vague hint of playfulness in his tone, though still serious enough to mean business. "You'd be pretty damn stupid to get sick on your big rescue mission. 'Sides... I don't wanna lead these babies around by myself."  
  
"Right - okay. Thanks..." Entre leaned forward, rooting through the bag at his feet. Finding the old garment resting somewhere at the bottom, Entre sat up with the mask in hand, giving it a long stare.  
He remembered a time when he never dared take it off - and here it was now, resting beneath everything else in his bag.  
...He could feel Swag watching him as he fastened it back over his face. _Jeez._ It was more claustrophobic than he remembered it being - but it fit accordingly.  
With a brief sigh, the entrepreneur sat back, briefly adjusting his _Super Bitch_ hat into a front-facing position before he managed to settle back down.  
  
Glancing over - he recognized Swag had stopped watching him.  
Now it was Entre's turn to stare.  
  
Swag's narrowed eyes were focused ahead, a tense expression across his face. His leather coat's collar framed the slope of his jaw, which was clenched in anticipation.  
Even in the cover of the night, the only lights coming from the headlights of the jeep and One-ler's glowing stare from behind them, something about Swag stood out to him.  
  
-It was a fragile sense of security, but a withstanding one, Entre realized.  
He felt _safe._  
"...Hey," Entre remarked softly, sliding his hand delicately into the space between he and Swag's car seats.  
  
"...?" Swag glanced over, and then down. As a smile wormed faintly onto his face, Swag moved his hand down, lacing his fingers delicately between Entre's and giving his hand a firm squeeze.  
  
Entre's hand squeezed back.  
  
Neither let go.

  


* * *

  


In the late afternoon - a point at which nearly all of them were tired, Swag finally pulled the jeep onto the shoulder of the road, squinting off at an array of trees.

"...If we're all okay with camping," Entre began, unbuckling his seat belt as he leaned out the window, surveying the area. "Could make a stop here - might be a little dangerous with all the trees, but if we can find a clearing..."

"...Signs on the way up said it was some kinda park," Swag popped open his door, stepping outside. "Should be fine for a night. Even got restrooms."

And nobody had any reason to argue.

As the group unloaded the keep, sleeping arrangements were dictated.

"Think you and I could stick with princess," Swag commented, using his nickname for One-ler. "And Poprocks n' the kid could be together. Two tents are easier to pack up, unless anyone's got a problem with sharing, or some shit."

...Entre was used to sharing his room with Swag and _Rocky,_ but he found no reason to object. _Wish I knew the guy a bit better..._  
"Sounds good."

"Great."

Half-way into the construction of Entre's tent, Swag approached, a hand propped on his hip. " _All aboard the virgin express,"_ Swag addressed, voice amplified through his crackling megaphone.

The entrepreneur glanced up, having been working on pounding one of the stakes into the ground, One-ler working on the other. "Swag? Could you put that thing away?" _I thought we agreed to be quiet!_

"Yeah. Wanna show you some shit real quick. You got this by yourself, drippylips?" Swag lowered his megaphone, cocking a brow at One-ler.

"...Sure," the other grumbled, too busy driving a stake into the earth to glance up.

...Entre couldn't help but notice, suddenly, how _shaky_ One-ler's hands were. _Is he... always like that?_ Entre couldn't remember.

"Alright, come here," Swag hustled Entre to his feet before walking off towards one of the thicker sections of forest.

Entre followed quickly after. "...What is it?"

"You ever practice with that crossbow I gave you?" Swag asked, gesturing off-handedly to where Entre had left the weapon resting, next to his other belongings.

"...Ah - not exactly. I figured out how to load and shoot it," Entre said.

"Right. Well," Swag said bluntly, "pick it up. _Your aim's shit,_ we gotta fix that. We can just have your lessons now, since we never got to 'em."

...Entre felt something inside of him wither.  
A familiar insult, but one that prodded an old wound. "...Right," he swallowed the word, wandering off to scoop the weapon up and take a quick detour after Swag.

Swag approached a tree, glancing up to judge its size before whipping a knife out from his belongings and etching an 'X' across the face. "It's pretty big - think you can try and hit it?"

Entre stood at a distance, gripping the crossbow tightly. "...Think so, yeah," he mumbled.

"Right. Show me your stance." Swag nodded expectantly.

... _Stance._ Entre paused, lifting the weapon up until the sights aligned with his eye, aiming it carefully at Swag's 'X' mark.

"...Here - almost," Swag stepped closer, patting his hand against Entre's right thigh. "Step back with this one. Got recoil, just like a gun does. If you stand like that, you're gonna fuck up the whole thing. And you'll look really stupid."

"...Okay," Entre's cheeks flushed slightly at the contact, glancing back as he readjusted his stance and raised the weapon up again.  
After a few seconds of uncertainty, fingering the trigger of the weapon a few experimental times, Entre fired.

-The bolt imbedded itself in the tree. Not _close,_ but close enough.  
Entre glanced back at Swag for his commentary.

"..." Swag leaned over, examining the bolt in the tree. "...At least you hit it. Here, try that again."  


* * *

  


Entre disapproved of the racket.  
It was getting late, and Rocky had started a jam session.  
And Swag was _very loudly_ participating.

Entre had heard Rocky's reasoning - and he supposed he hadn't expected much difference. It was fair to want to establish comfort and community when they were risking their lives like this.  
_'Especially with the kid here,'_ Rocky had added.

Still, the entrepreneur chose not to participate this time, sitting a few feet away from the collaboration.  
Rocky's guitar was more softly played, and Ted wasn't a loud singer, considering. But it still put him on edge.

_If we die because of My Heart Will Go On..._ Entre gave a glance to the side, noticing One-ler, again, sitting at a fair distance from the collaboration.  
_..._ Well, Entre _had_ wanted to know him better...  
After a moment of thought, Entre drew nearer to the infected, turning his back on the concert just as Swag and Rocky had reached the arc of the chorus.

_Near, far...  
Whereeeeever you are... _

"...One-ler - uh... hey," Entre addressed. "Wanted to see if you - uh... wanted to sit together, or something. Know we haven't talked a lot."

...One-ler glanced up, narrowing his glowing yellow eyes - as if he had trouble discerning who it was at first. "Uhh... if you want," he grumbled.

Entre hesitated, before sitting down beside him. "...Uh - hey." Conversation felt awkward suddenly. Even if Entre had been forgiven for the whole _closet_ incident. "...How've you - uh... been?"

...  
One-ler turned his head to look at the other, blinking once. "Well, I've been fine," he answered briefly.

"...Do you - uh... need to eat anything?" Entre asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "...We - don't really have much except what's in the cans... I'm sure Swag'll try and get you something tomorrow morning."

"...Hungry," One-ler acknowledged. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

Entre noticed again - as One-ler raised a hand to cough into his palm, how _shaky_ he was.

... _Is Ted like that, too?_ Entre bit his lip. _...Is Rocky going to do the same thing? Was Bitter..._

Watching it made Entre cough, too.

"Yeah... still, though. We can try to get you something tomorrow." Entre paused, hearing one of the singing voices dying out. Sitting onto his knees, the entrepreneur glanced back to the concert behind them.

Rocky had stopped vocalizing, still playing the song carefully on the guitar - more slowly.  
  
_He's missing the notes._ Entre exhaled a shaky breath. "Maybe we should go and spend time with the others," Entre suggested, rising to his feet. "Come on... it's pretty late anyway. Probably have to turn in soon..."

"...Okay, okay," One-ler spoke, rising behind Entre and following along behind him.

Swag and Ted had already stopped vocalizing by the time Entre and One-ler arrived, both of them seeming faintly uneasy.

Rocky glanced up, haunched over slightly in what looked to be a mild coughing fit.

"-Hey, uh..." Entre crossed his arms across his chest. "It's getting a little late. I think it'd be a good idea if we all gave it a rest for now. We can barely see where we're going."

"Yeah, whatever. About time for some beauty sleep anyway," Swag acknowledged, but didn't move.

Rocky stood abruptly, still coughing into his hand. "-Sounds good-" He choked up, smearing his hand across his mouth as he moved quickly from his sitting spot. "-I'll go get ready for bed."

Even in the dim light, Entre had noticed the scarlet ichor clinging to Rocky's chin as he walked by.  
_...He's coughing up blood._

And it seemed like One-ler had noticed, too, because his trembling had graduated to a subtle tick that riddled his whole frame.  
And his _eyes.  
_They just _couldn't look away._


	8. Help, I'm Alive

Entre couldn't sleep.  
Entre never slept anymore - sometimes he was able to catch an hour, or two, or three, but...  
  
Lying there awake was no unfamiliar sensation, but it was unpleasant as it always was.  
He'd forgotten how uncomfortable sleeping in a mask was. That certainly wasn't helping things. The tent was a lot colder than he was used to, and the ground beneath him was jagged.  
  
Swag lay asleep, snoring softly beside him, though not _quite_ beside him. Entre was used to sharing a bed, but there was an unfortunate gap between them now, as each occupied a separate sleeping bag.  
  
Their gloved hands managed to meet between them, closed around each other, Entre having held tight throughout his restless hours of sleeplessness. The entrepreneur found himself caressing his thumb delicately over the back of the other's hand.  
  
...Funny. He'd been satisfied so easily in the past with merely lying at his side. Only when there was no room to hold him did Entre so desperately feel the desire to be held. _I want to be closer... to you._  
  
...There was something uneasy in the air, though. Entre felt it was unfair to blame One-ler, but his presence held a different affect than Rocky's usually did.  
Whenever Entre turned his face, he could almost always find One-ler's yellow eyes staring back. _...He's always awake._ And he was always watching, too. It would be nice to think of him like some kind of silent guardian.  
...But it _didn't_ feel that way.  
  
And with that idea still in his head, Entre heard a rustle outside.  
...And another, at the opposite end of camp.  
And then one right outside.  
  
His heart suddenly leapt to his throat as the entrepreneur sat up abruptly, retracting his hand from Swag's as a soft gasp escaped his lips.  
His lungs contracted, the once-ler sucking in a sudden, uneasy breath as his exhale morphed unhealthily into a wheezing, forceful cough.  
Entre pulled his mask down from his face in order to catch a breath, pressing a cough into the back of his hand.  
  
He heard a soft rustle beside him, a hand pressing slowly on his back.  
_Swag._ He'd woken up.  
  
Entre's breath stalled, devolving into an awkward wheeze as he rested his head on his knees, regulating the flow of air to his lungs.  
  
Swag's hand continued to pat tiredly at his shoulder, rubbing a soothing, tired circle.  
  
The moment Entre felt himself able to breathe, he sat forward onto his knees, turning briefly to face the other. "Swag," he murmured quickly, eyes widening slightly. "Did you hear that?"  
  
"What, you coughing? Not that quiet, you know," Swag raised a hand to rub at his eyes.  
  
"No - outside," Entre hissed, falling silent abruptly as the sound of a twig snapping a few feet from the tent's entrance drew their attention.  
  
Both survivors looked up - then at each other.  
  
"... _I heard some more,"_ Entre's voice fell to a whisper as he gestured offhandedly. "If they're slugs..."  
  
Swag paused, narrowing his eyes in the direction of Entre's gesture before shifting in his seat. "...Sit tight. I'm gonna go check it out - put your mask back on if you're done coughing all over the place."  
The other crawled forward, feeling around for his boots.  
  
Entre knew it would take a short while for Swag to be ready, especially considering his previously amputated foot. He pulled his mask back over his face, glancing over his shoulder to find One-ler's alert stare boring into him, as always.  
  
"...Something wrong...?" The infected asked, glowing irises blinking slowly.  
  
"Just heard some noises outside - I'm gonna go have a look," Swag explained quickly, tugging his second boot on as he rose to his feet, scooping up his weapons from the floor.  
  
"I'll come," Entre figured, tugging on his own coat and resting a hand on his crossbow, not far from his sleeping bag.  
  
Swag seemed uncertain, but nodded. "Stay behind me."  
  
Entre nodded, inching into position behind Swag as his partner leaned down, unzipping the entrance to the tent and taking a peek outside.  
  
_"...Shit,"_ Swag mumbled, pulling his head back. "...Not too many, but it's a fuckin' lot for just the five of us."  
  
"...We'd better take care of them," Entre insisted, holding his crossbow closely.  
  
Swag nodded, "and someone better get Poprocks..." He glanced back, eyes narrowing. "Drippylips, can you walk past me n' tell Poprocks what's up?"  
  
One-ler had already stood up, stooping down to place his top hat atop his head. He stood at quite the height, his axe almost long enough to match.  
"....Sure..." He mumbled with some difficulty, stalking forward and ducking past Swag and Entre, disappearing into the darkness.  
  
With a sigh, Swag pulled back, making eye contact with Entre. "Alright, hot shot. You're the asshole with the crossbow. Wanna take a shot at one of them?"  
  
Entre nodded quickly, glancing down to make certain he had his axe at his side, just in case.  
Then, stepping through the entrance, Entre raised the sights to his eye again, sucking in an uncertain breath.  
  
He noted one of the infected wandering aimlessly, its sickly glowing eyes turning suddenly as it took notice of Entre.  
  
_Come on. Don't miss._ Entre chewed his lip, hands trembling. He hadn't shot at a living thing since...  
_Come on. We're over him. _He planted his foot firmly, squeezing the trigger and sending a stray bolt whizzing through the air.  
  
-Catching the zombie squarely in the jaw, to which it complained with a gurgling roar.  
  
Swag nudged Entre's shoulder, a smile dancing across his face. "Hey. Nice one."  
  
"Thanks," Entre exhaled a relieved breath, already struggling to secure a second bolt into the crossbow.  
  
Swag stalked around the tent, taking care not to stray too far from Entre. "Some more that way - get ready." Swag drew a sickle from his belt.  
  
Entre turned his attention to Swag, leaning forward as he tried to steal a glance around the side of the tent.  
Hearing a noise behind him, however, the entrepreneur pivoted on his heel, raising his crossbow as another slug drew too close for comfort.  
  
The diseased raised a hand, swiping at Entre as he leapt back, raising his crossbow into his sights and firing off another bolt into the thing's eye.  
Abruptly, it slumped to the floor.  
  
_Shit._ That was close. Fumbling for another bolt, Entre turned back to Swag, who was already severing the throat from another oncoming zombie. The entrepreneur leaned back to avoid an oncoming spray of blood.  
Noticing movement in the trees behind Swag, Entre met his partner's gaze quickly. "Move to the side," he urged quickly.  
  
Cocking a brow, Swag darted aside dynamically, just as a zombie stumbled through the undergrowth towards them.  
  
But Entre had already prepared bolt, sinking the crossbow into position and sending an arrow through the infected's head.  
  
Swag stepped back as the zombie slumped to the floor, lifting a hand to rub at a blood smear on his face. "Shit... look at you!" Swag grinned, walking past Entre, sliding a hand across the small of his back in acknowledgement as he passed. "Thing makes you kinda hot. You can thank me later."  
  
"Pshh - alright, 'big gay,'" Entre rolled his eyes, cheeks burning pink as he turned the other direction, eyes skittering across the dark scenery around him in search of movement.  
  
And there was movement - just not from an enemy. The moment Swag left, Rocky had come to join Entre, falling quickly into step behind him. "Mind if I cover for you?" He chimed charismatically.  
  
"Don't mind at all," Entre slowed his stride, creasing his brow at the noise behind his own tent. "...Think there might be some back there."  
He glanced back, but Rocky was already focused somewhere else, gripping his axe tightly.  
  
_Shoot._ Entre swallowed hard as he turned back to face the tent, readying his crossbow and lifting it uncertainly as two zombies appeared from behind it and stumbled towards him. _Frick - two!?  
  
_"Entre!" Called Rocky from behind him.  
  
Entre turned just as another infected reached out to him from behind, teeth bared as it lunged towards his shoulder.  
Before the entrepreneur even had time to react, Rocky had shot out an arm, catching the slug's teeth before they could reach the entrepreneur.  
  
With a faint outcry, the rockstar grimaced and gestured rapidly to the crossbow. "-Hand me that," he choked.  
  
Entre did what he was told, passing the crossbow over quickly as he shifted a hand to the axe on his side.  
Lifting the weapon, he plunged the weapon down, halving the head of the zombie attacking Rocky.  
  
At the same time, Rocky lifted the crossbow shakily in his other hand, resting the weight of the weapon against Entre's shoulder and steadily taking aim. Over the entrepreneur's shoulder, he fired the weapon off, managing to catch one of the two attackers in the forehead.  
  
With a soft gasp, Entre swiveled around, ripping the axe from the head of one and using it to sever the head of the other.  
  
And suddenly, with a collective sigh of relief, the world around the two fell into stillness.  
  
Entre and Rocky locked eyes, reluctant smiles finding both of their faces as a soft, unsteady cough racked through Entre's lungs.  
  
The rockstar proposed the crossbow back. "Here's this."  
  
"Thanks, jeez... that was - really cool," Entre marveled, taking the weapon back and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He coughed a few more times into the crook of his elbow, before standing up tall again. "That bite going to be alright?"  
  
The rockstar gave a thumbs up. "Don't you worry about it. I'm gonna check the border, you might want to go find Swag or one of the others."  
  
"Got it." Entre paused, before giving a thumbs up back. "See you, uh... be careful."  
  
"You too, man. Stay safe." And Rocky turned away.  
  
Slinging the crossbow back into his arms, Entre loaded another bolt - _shit, I'm running low._  
Moving forward, he approached the center of camp.  
  
He looked around, noticing Swag a few feet away - standing between them was a slug.  
_Just one?_ Entre took up his stance, lifting his crossbow again...  
But he stopped short, breath catching awkwardly in his throat.  
  
About his height, glowing boils filled with golden pus scattered across its face, the face shape was round, the hair dark. It had to be a recently turned infected, one still had the reaction of fear, as it _flinched_ as Entre lifted his weapon.  
It wasn't, obviously. It wasn't. It couldn't be - because he was dead and eaten. But for a split second too long, the thing looked _like Bitter.  
  
_Entre choked and stumbled back, narrowly missing the thing's attempt to scratch him as it grew close, close, _closer._ Entre just couldn't pull the trigger.  
_No, no, no, no, this isn't him!_ He had to pull the trigger - he'd stopped hearing Bitter's screams echoing through his head so long ago, so _why_ could he suddenly hear them again?  
Finally, he squeezed the trigger, the recoil of the crossbow kicking back violently due to Entre's awkward footing.  
As the zombie fell dead before him, the edge of the crossbow bashed open the bridge of Entre's nose, summoning a bit of blood, which dribbled freely down his face. _Shit.  
  
_The next few seconds happened in slow motion. Entre stepped back, struggling to catch his breath as a sudden cough stumbled through his throat.  
And before he could even lift a hand to cough into, _he_ was already upon him.  
  
Entre felt a hand gripping his jacket, another fastening around his neck as someone foul-smelling and tall closed distance on him.  
The entrepreneur gasped, struggling frantically as he felt a row of sharp teeth sinking into his ear.  
  
He couldn't hold back an outcry, pulling away frantically as he pushed back against - oh God. He recognized the glow of the eyes.  
_One-ler._ Starved for blood.  
  
Entre's face contorted in pain, a pathetic sort of sob passing through his grimaced teeth as he finally shoved away, the terrible sensation of skin _tearing_ causing a fleshy, awful sound as he stumbled for footing.  
Stepstepstep - he teetered awkwardly, heart throbbing in his ears as a thick, warm ichor oozed with alarming speed down the side of his face.  
And his foot caught on a jagged rock, the other twisting with sudden, painful wrongness at a sudden decline in the ground he stood on.  
  
And Entre fell to the floor, staring up in horror at One-ler, staring back, a segment of Entre's _ear_ still sticking out of his mouth.  
-Before being swallowed.  
  
One-ler's eyes glowed with some kind of hollowness, his body trembling as he stalked forward, reaching out with bloody, pale fingers.  
  
_Oh God--_ He'd turned!  
  
Entre put a hand to his ear - or what was left of it, pulling it away to find his pristine green gloved stained almost instantly with a sharp shade of dark carmine.  
  
_...It's - gone. I'm going to be infected.  
He bit me. I'm going to get sick.  
I'm- _he couldn't breathe. _Going to getsickI'mgoingtogetsick.  
  
_He scooted back, attempting to rise to his feet again - but stepping on his twisted ankle only caused him to fall back onto the ground.  
  
And suddenly One-ler was on top of him.  
  
Entre could hardly breathe, so he could hardly scream. But he _screamed_ somehow, wedging his good foot between One-ler and his body, just to force some distance between the entrepreneur and his attacker's gnashing teeth.  
He pushed back on his campmate's shoulders, choking for air as he felt himself losing.  
  
He heard footsteps running. _Savemesavemesavemesaveme-  
  
_Just as One-ler's musty breath danced across his neck, teeth almost making it into Entre's jugular, he was pulled off and unceremoniously shoved to the ground.  
  
Entre's eyes widened. _Swag!  
  
_And sure enough, it _was_ Swag. Entre's partner rested a foot on top of One-ler, holding him against the ground as he waved Rocky over. "Come on, princess," he hissed down at the infected, "hang in there-" And to the approaching: "Rocky! Get the fuck over here!"  
  
Entre still _couldn't breathe_. He struggled to lift a hand to unfasten his mask, feeling suffocated by it.  
_I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to get sick..._ It was karma, wasn't it? He'd ruined everyone's life, and now he was going to get his own illness and die.  
  
Rocky was over him, too, taking One-ler from Swag.  
  
"Take care of him - don't fucking kill him, but do something," Swag barked at Rocky, stepping back. "The camp clear?"  
  
"As far as I can tell," Rocky reported, glancing up. "Think we got the rest."  
  
"Fuck," Swag drew a hand across his lip, leaning down to Entre and turning his head semi-forcefully with a hand to inspect the free-bleeding wound from his half-bitten ear.  
Swag reached down, releasing the gas mask's clasp and removing it from Entre's face, tossing it carelessly to the side. "Breathe, man. Fucking breathe, I'm gonna fix it up."  
  
Entre tried - he really, really tried. It still felt like he _couldn't_ breathe as tears stung at his eyes, a sob choking up through his throat.  
  
Swag glanced up, face cold. "Kid," to Ted, presumably. "Get the med-kit, I'm moving him to the tent."  
  
Entre glanced to the left, managing to catch a glimpse of Ted, shell-shocked, seemingly. Glancing between One-ler and Entre, bleeding on the floor, his own body shaking.  
  
"Did you hear me, shit for brains? Get the fucking first aid," Swag snapped. "Don't lose your fucking head right now, or he's going to die!"  
  
_Is he turning?_ Ted turned under stress - Entre remembered that. _'Don't pressure him,'_ he wanted to choke up. _'Don't pressure him, you'll make it worse!'  
_"D-D... D-Don - D..." Entre wheezed pathetically, sobbing suddenly again.  
  
Ted bit his lip, shaking his head suddenly as he turned and ran off.  
  
That seemed to be good enough for Swag, who stooped down, resting his arms under Entre's legs and his shoulders and hoisting him up.  
  
And Entre clung, mind still a mess of words. He clung, and he bled, and he cried, and let his sobs shake his fragile body. Swag was the only safety he knew, so he held tight, muffling his sobbing into the other's shoulder as the pain in his ear seared suddenly.  
  
Swag moved quickly, ducking back into their tent and adjusting a sleeping bag with his foot before resting Entre down atop it. "Alright, dude. You're gonna need to breathe, come on."  
  
Entre's hand still remained fastened on the collar of Swag's coat.  
_I'm sick, I'msickI'mgonnadieI'msick._  
  
"In and out - come on... in and out." Swag glanced over his shoulder, waving someone over as he fished a pocket knife from his pocket.  
  
The sight of the knife made Entre recoil.  
  
"Breathe. Come on," Swag said in a more forceful whisper. Less volume. "Try and breathe. I'm taking care of it."  
  
_Breathe._ Okay.  
Tears streamed into Entre's would like bullets as he sniffled, attempting to breathe.  
_Count your breaths,_ he remembered 72 advising him once.  
So he did. Entre squeezed his eyes shut. _One. Twothree. Four. Fivesixseven.  
...Eight. Nine. Ten... Eleven... Twelve...  
  
_Entre's eyes opened as Ted returned, not making eye contact with either of them as he handed Swag the box of first aid.  
  
Swag took it quickly, rifling through. "There's a cot in the back, go get that, too."  
  
Ted swallowed hard, finally stealing a glance down at Entre before peeling off again.  
  
Swag sat on his knees, giving Entre's shoulder an assuring squeeze as he balled gauze into his hand.  
"Alright. Listen... I'm gonna cut the ear the rest of the way off - that'll stop the infection and it'll save your life. Got that?"  
  
...Entre nodded, but he could hardly comprehend it.  
  
"Like payback for the leg thing," he joked dryly. A failed attempt at coping with the situation. "...Hey. Entre. Look at me."  
  
...Entre looked.  
  
Swag's stare was intense, but concerned. "...You're going to be okay." He flicked the knife open. "Alright? You're going to be be okay."  
  
...Entre nodded slowly.  
  
Swag tugged his scarf from his bag, giving it a quick glance before glancing down at Entre again. "Bite on it. Like before."  
  
...Entre blinked at the scarf as it was abruptly shoved against his lips. His breath rapidly sped up again, but he complied, taking the scarf between his teeth and biting down.  
  
"Good. Now," Swag pressed the gauze snugly against Entre's ear, pushing his head to the side. "Close your eyes. Don't want your blood to run into them. Trust me, it fucking sucks."  
  
...Entre swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut tight.  
  
And, after a second that lasted a lifetime, Swag rested the blade against the remains of Entre's ear.  
And he carved.


	9. Recovery

Well, Entre certainly wasn't going anywhere now.  
His left ankle had been bound tightly in gauze and propped up above his heart by a few stacked towels.  
  
As for his ear, that had been taped down with gauze and generously applied with healing ointments.  
Just one night, and Entre could hardly hear on one side of his body.  
And it would only get worse as the wound scabbed over, he rationalized.  
  
And his sickness was much worse. He had attempted to hold his gas mask to his face and breathe through it, unable to wear it with his ear nothing but an open wound, but the effort had proved fruitless when he broke off into a violent cough far too often.  
  
His mission to save everyone had already fallen away into nothing.  
  
_Failure, failure, failure..._ what a pathetic failure he was. _You're so awful, Entre. It's all your fault._ It wasn't a disembodied voice speaking to him this time - he didn't need intrusive thoughts to convince himself he was awful anymore.  
_Of course everything went wrong! You've never done anything right!  
  
_Swag was away. Entre wasn't sure where he'd gone, but he yearned for his company. _He's probably pissed off at me._  
One-ler was outside, he'd heard, tied up somewhere until he managed to turn back.  
  
That was an excuse for them not to have continued onward since they were losing time every day they didn't move forward.  
Entre didn't want to stall - One-ler's need to turn back was a good enough excuse to keep him in bed for now, but once that was resolved... _I can't get in the way of this - I can't slow us down anymore.  
_He was already failure enough.  
  
The entire day felt like a haze.  
  
He'd taken his medicines, more now that he had two injuries to worry about.  
  
With Swag gone, Rocky and Ted took up his bedside.  
  
"Anything you want to hear?" Rocky glanced over idly, guitar resting on his lap as he prodded the strings in anticipation.  
  
Entre blinked, glancing down to Ted, sketching out a few crayon drawings on the floor, before glancing back up. "...Anything you want is fine..." He mumbled softly.  
  
Rocky smiled faintly, strumming the instrument experimentally a few times before he frowned slightly again. "Hey, dude. You know none of this is your fault, right?"  
  
...? Entre glanced back over, eyes tired. "Huh? You... uh - I dunno..." He paused, tugging up his blankets quietly. "You guys would've been safe back at camp, and you wouldn't be having to take care of me."  
  
"...Yeah, doing what?" Rocky's smile grew melancholy. "I'd be - uh..." His eyes darted over to Ted, who seemed to have picked up on Rocky's condition, before glancing back. "Well. I'd be waiting to lose my head. So would everyone else, in danger, outside the walls... you did everyone a favor." Strum, strum... "Road's gonna have bumps, 'ya know."  
  
"...I know," Entre mumbled softly, sitting up as he noticed Ted rising to his feet.  
  
The child approached, glancing down at his piece of paper before extending his hand out to show Entre his drawing.  
  
...The entrepreneur took it, giving the drawing a quick look over.  
  
A few stick figures: One that was clearly Entre, another that was clearly Ted. And finally, Rocky. All standing together with impassioned squiggly smiles spread across their faces.  
  
...Entre smiled faintly, giving a soft laugh, which devolved slowly into a soft cough. "...Hey, Rocky, you should check this out..." He proposed the paper over to the rockstar, who took it from him briefly.  
  
Rocky gave the drawing a quick look over, producing a bemused smile of his own. "Heh. Hey, good one, kiddo." Following Entre, Rocky pressed a cough into the back of his gloved hand, giving the drawing back as he ruffled Ted's hair briefly.  
"I mean it though, Entre," Rocky glanced back up. "I've told you this before, and I'll tell you again. Sometimes things get a little screwed up, but that doesn't mean there isn't room to try again - and it doesn't mean that whatever went wrong was _your_ wrong, either. Said a while ago people need to start cutting you some slack, and - well." He leaned back slightly, shifting in his seat. "Goes for you as well. Give yourself a break, alright? You're taking on a lot - not everything's gonna turn out perfect."  
  
"...Ah - I'll, uh... try," Entre paused. "Just - doesn't feel like I'm doing anything right. The more I try and - _fix things,_ the more I screw up..." He felt embarrassed admitting this in front of Ted, cheeks flushing in shame as he attempted to look away.  
  
Ted paused, glancing down at his drawing, before glancing back up. "I don't think this is your fault, Entre."  
  
"Yeah," Rocky added softly. "We all chose to leave - chose to accept any consequences. Mission ain't over yet, either. We're gonna... keep going, and we're gonna keep working. And you're gonna _do _a lot of good if you can put your mind to it, alright?"  
  
"...Ah - if you guys say so," Entre raised a hand to rub at his forehead, managing a faint smile.  
  
"Yeah, I, uh... hope you feel better soon," Ted added, rocking on his heel. "You're really strong! And once you and Mister One-ler feel a little better, we can get back to fixing everything!"  
  
...Entre smiled a little more. "...If - you guys really think that, then... thank you." _It feels wrong._ Their kind words fell through him. People being too kind to see him for the mistake he was. He pressed a cough into the back of his hand.  
"I just - I'll keep trying," he insisted, weakly, though. "Uh - doing. Sorry." _He's right. They're right..._ Nothing was going to get better if he wallowed in self-hatred. It just felt so hard to detach his easily-harbored feelings of self-resentment when his flaws stared him in the face and dined on his vulnerable headspace.  
But he had to focus - on getting the cure. On making Rocky, Ted, One-ler, Swag, everyone else - safe. That was how he could redeem himself. That was how he could make up for his miserable existence.  
Self-punishment felt deserved, but he could try and ease up on himself a little... it was harder than it sounded.  
  
The jeep pulled up on the curb outside, causing everyone to lift their tired gaze to the tent's entrance.  
  
Rocky stood, setting the guitar on the chair beside Entre. "Hey, kid," he took a quick knee. "Found some more poprocks candy in my bag the other day. Wanna have some with me again?"  
  
Ted blinked, nodding eagerly, but shooting a concerned look back at Entre.  
  
Rocky glanced over too. "...Hey, mind if we come back in a few minutes? Just thought I might give you a few minutes alone with - you know." He managed an earnest smile.  
  
"Yeah... alright," Entre said softly. "Have fun, guys."  
  
"Thanks - and you," Rocky addressed, rising to his full height. "Try and get some rest."  
  
The two left just as quickly as Swag stepped inside past them. Neither groups stopped to glance at the other.  
  
Swag carried two crutches under his arm, scooting the chair forward a smidge as he sat down, unloading a brief sigh. "Hey nerd."  
  
"Hey, loser," Entre teased softly.  
  
"Got you some crutches - don't even think about getting up yet, though. Not until we're all ready to go." Swag paused. "Trust me on that - since we're fucked up leg buddies now..."  
  
Entre glanced down. "...Same leg, isn't it?" He realized.  
  
"Heh - yeah." Swag shifted his chair around, ensuring they faced the same direction, before lifting his left leg. "Matching. Call that couple goals."  
  
Entre chuckled softly. "Top of the charts."  
  
"Pshh," Swag mustered a faulty smile. "Take your medicine?"  
  
Entre nodded, shifting slightly as he felt another cough leaking up through his his lips. "Yep. Both of 'em..." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"...I'm - uh..." He paused, glancing down, before shaking his head. _Sorry._ For fucking up again.  
  
"...You're what?"  
  
Entre shook his head. "Nothing. Just - sorry I got myself into more shit."  
  
"...Well, wasn't your fault this time," Swag brushed off. He leaned forward, squinting as he brushed a hand quietly against Entre's forehead. "...Don't have a fever, right?"  
  
"...No, checked a little earlier," Entre promised.  
  
"...Hmph." Swag's lips pressed together.  
  
"Thanks, by the way," Entre turned slightly, wincing at a sudden sting from the side of his head. "...For, uh, saving me."  
  
"Nah, don't mention it," Swag moved from the chair, kneeling beside Entre's bedside and resting his elbows neatly on the corner of the bed. "I got your back until the end. Remember?"  
  
"I remember..." Entre promised softly.  
  
"..." Swag seemed troubled, arms crossing over themselves briefly, before he leaned forward, cupping Entre's face in one hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
  
-Entre inhaled softly, eyes fluttering closed. He breathed in the affection like air.  
His eyes opened again, a hand raising to brush a few strands of Swag's hair from his face.  
  
Swag pressed his fingers softly around Entre's hand, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're okay," he decided after a few seconds. "..." There was more to say, Entre could tell. But he didn't finish.  
  
"...Thank you," Entre said softly, lifting his other hand to run his fingers gently down Swag's cheek.  
  
"You're gonna make it out of this - you just need to get better, and we can keep going," Swag promised. He paused, glancing down, before meeting Entre's gaze again. "So just take care of yourself until then, okay?"  
  
"...Okay," Entre agreed. "We - I..." Hm. "When is that...? We can't risk losing too much time..."  
  
"I know," Swag sighed. "But I'm not gonna let you out of here until it's safe. I'm sick to _fuck_ of losing people I care about. I'm not gonna lose you - not right now. Not over this." He pulled away from his partner's embrace.  
  
"You won't lose me," Entre promised. "Not over this. It's an ear - and just a cough. Nothing worse than you or the others have gone through. It - sucks. but... I'm not going to die. There's no way the infection could have spread - since you, uh..." He winced, recalling the _pain_ he'd felt losing that ear. Twice. It slithered through his veins like seething beetles.  
"Cut it off. And I've been using my mask as much as I can. I'll just... be careful. Okay?"  
  
"And you won't do any stupid shit like you did before?" Swag cocked a brow, crossing his arms.  
  
"...No. Not like I could walk very far anyway," Entre promised, pressing a soft cough into his palms. "I think once One-ler's better - we should leave. Not sure how safe it is to stay here, anyway. But I'll rest best I can... as long as we're _still going._ "  
Entre hated to admit how much the idea of being around One-ler had come to frighten him. _This is the second time he's tried to kill me..._ and this time had almost succeeded.  
"... _Please?_ " He asked again more softly. "I need to make progress on the cure. For - _everyone's_ sake."  
  
"...We'll see. Just don't get any stupid ideas," Swag chastised. "You shouldn't even be out here - I don't know why I let you come out here when you clearly aren't fucking well enough to be..." He pushed a sigh through his teeth. "...But sure. We'll see. Okay?"  
  
That would have to be good enough. "Okay..." Entre crossed his arms over his waist. He felt - awful, suddenly. He wasn't even sure why he felt awful. _I'm burdening you._ Swag had wanted to leave by himself. Entre hadn't let him.  
...Maybe it was his fault this had happened.  
His hand shifted to Swag's knee, words suddenly stuck in his throat.  
_I love you. I love you._ He shuddered, unable to push the words out. They felt so selfish and pathetic. _I'm not good enough to love you._  
"Hey, Swag," he murmured softly.  
  
Swag seemed to ease a bit - more tired than hostile anymore. "...Yeah, what's up?"  
  
"...Are _you_ okay?" He asked, surprising himself.  
  
"...Huh?" Swag blinked. "Quit being gay, dude. Of course I'm fine, I'm not the one bed-ridden right now. That's been you for the past few weeks."  
  
"I asked a question." Entre bit his tongue. "I - mean. Are you _feeling_ okay?"  
  
"...Yeah," Swag responded after a few seconds. "Just want you and Princess to get better. Alright? Can you promise me you'll try and get better?"  
  
"..." Entre nodded quietly.  
  
"...Okay." Swag leaned back in his chair. Then mustered a goofy grin. "Good. 'Cause then I can show you how to use crutches - unless you like the idea of me carrying you around like a princess everywhere."  
  
"Mmm, I don't mind," Entre mused playfully. "May just be my new mode of transportation."  
  
"Psh - you could count yourself lucky. Might have to start calling you _prom queen_ or something."  
  
A noise from behind Swag caused the both of them to look up.  
  
Rocky was back, Ted wandering back inside the tent after him.  
  
"Hey Swag..." Rocky paused. "Can I borrow you for a minute? Thought Entre could watch the kid while we talked something over."  
  
Swag blinked. "...Sure, what's up?" He touched briefly at Entre's shoulder as he stood up, giving him a lingering glance before peeling away from his bedside.  


* * *

  


Rocky didn't want to have this conversation - and he knew Swag didn't either. It was a topic that made him queasy to consider for too long, but perhaps the topic was overdue. Some people would certainly say so.  
This time there didn't seem to be any other choice.  
"...I - well." He turned briefly, facing Swag as he crossed his arms, a reluctant look on his face.  
Swag knew this was coming - didn't he? Rocky noticed the stiffening of his body.  
He probably didn't expect it from Rocky.  
But with the reigns up in the air, what choice did he have?  
Rocky swallowed hard, but didn't step off.  
"...We're going to have to talk about One."


	10. This Is How I Disappear

Entre's arms rested over his stomach, eyes focused on the ceiling.  
  
And Ted, sitting by the side of his bed, glanced up, watching the entrepreneur's stillness.  
"Hey - Entre...?" He asked, glancing back down to his crayon drawings suddenly. "...Do you remember when - umm..."  
  
"...When what...?" He shifted onto his side.  
  
"...When I killed Creep," Ted muttered softly, unable to lift his eyes to meet Entre's gaze.  
  
...  
Entre felt something inside of him hollow. _Why did I let that happen?_ His jaw tightened. "...Yeah. I do. You - uh... thinking about that?"  
  
Ted glanced back up. "...I'm just scared. Mister One-ler hasn't turned back yet. And..."  
  
...Entre swallowed hard. "...You're scared he's going to disappear."  
  
"..." Ted nodded, finally lifting his head, seemingly seeking some kind of reassurance.  
  
_Reassurance..._ what could he say? What could he say that didn't feel like a lie? Entre had to admit he'd been considering what would become of One-ler, who supposedly still hadn't found himself. He'd been considering for a while now if they were going to have to put him out of his misery. But Entre didn't want to be the one to make calls on people's deaths anymore.  
Even if it felt necessary to address, he couldn't.  
He couldn't risk upsetting Swag. He couldn't risk making the wrong call.  
He couldn't risk fucking up like he had with Bitter.  
"...I hope not," he said, but he wasn't sure it was true. _What do I want?_  
He wanted whatever outcome was the right one.  
...He just wasn't sure which one it was.  
"...But - we should probably stay in here, for now."  


* * *

  


Rocky crossed his arms, watching Swag's posture as he squinted at One-ler, still tied tightly to the tree.

And there, squirming for freedom, a vacant glint in his glazed-over, yellow eyes, was what had been Swag's friend.  
\--Rocky's friend, too. But he could hardly compete with the closeness One and Swag shared.

The rockstar kept his gaze fixated on the ground.  
Ever since he's been sentenced to lose his life, he'd decided to focus on helping others - on making sure everyone else was able to have fun, and to keep their head up. The last thing he wanted was more death.  
...So he didn't bring up what had been pressing on his mind, because it genuinely _hurt him_ to think about.  
It always hurt to lose a member of what felt like family.

"...We're going to have to try something else because, he's... not turning back," Rocky mumbled, crossing his arms. "...I was wondering if you thought spending any time with the dude could help him come back to his senses."  
That plaguing thought never left his mind, the one that he knew was true, but the one he didn't want to think about.  
Rocky could sympathize with Entre, suddenly.  
He hated holding necessary action in his hand. He didn't want to be the one to make calls like this. Rocky wasn't a leader, he was a support system. But no one else wanted to hold the responsibility, either. So no one did.  
_As long as One-ler's alive, Entre is in danger._ The last one of them that hadn't been infected.  
In the past, Ted and One-ler's attacks had been on people who could already take it: Swag and Rocky, both.  
...And that was pushing it already.

Other groups often looked down on Entre's camp for letting the infected live among them. _But they're different. They're my friends._ That was always Rocky's reasoning. And Rocky refused to kill a friend.  
So Rocky couldn't hurt him. He couldn't encourage anyone _to_ hurt him... even if it may have been the best solution.

And of course, Swag wouldn't either. "Here, I can talk to him. I want to cut him loose, though. No way he's going to get better tied to a fucking tree." He produced a knife from his pocket - the same that had been used to amputate Entre's ear only a day ago. "...We're both not going to get that fucked up if he attacks us, we can just move him outside of camp and give him some space from Entre."

...Rocky nodded slowly. "If - if he doesn't..." Rocky bit his tongue, looking down.

"...Don't." Swag dismissed. "Don't say it."

"...I wasn't going to say _that,_ you know." Rocky looked back up. "...I was going to say that if we have to... we can move him out somewhere and let him go free. If you think that's what's best." 

Swag didn't look up from cutting the ropes. "...Right. Guess that's a last resort."

Rocky nodded.

Once all the binds were free, One-ler pulled away from the tree, already turning with bloodthirsty yearning on Swag beside him.  
As the zombie reached out to fasten his blood-stained fingers around Swag's shoulder, Rocky strode forward, yanking One back and securing his wrists behind his back.

Swag brushed himself off. "-Shit," he grumbled, resting a firm hand on One-ler's shoulder and attempting to guide him as he walked.

Rocky kept the infected's wrists secured, following along behind them. "...Swag. Listen, man. I just - want to make sure you know that this might _be it."_

"..." Swag didn't answer.

They guided One-ler through the thick of the woods, passing no more words behind them.  
...And for one frightening moment, Rocky realized he's forgotten why, or where they were going at all.  
Or who he was even with.

_Where - am I?  
_Then the rockstar shook his head. _With - Entre and One!_ Wait, no, that wasn't right.

Entre - no - Swag stopped abruptly, giving a glance around with a hazy sigh. "...This seems fine, just sit him down somewhere and I'll talk to him."

_...That's right._ They were trying to turn One-ler back.  
Rocky nodded curtly, wrapping his arms tightly around the infected's midsection. "I'll hold him - you can talk to him."

"...Right." Swag crossed his arms, before exhaling a light sigh. "Princess," he addressed One-ler, resting both hands on his shoulders and attempting to meet his empty gaze.

Rocky fought to cling to One-ler's arms as he began to fight for room to move _._

_"Come on, buddy,_ please. This isn't you. Remember when we talked out in the shed?" Swag tempted, "don't give up on me, man."

One's mouth tumbled open, and a growl escaped him. "Gggh," he exhaled jaggedly. "Ggggrhh - _leave..."_

Swag paused, eyebrows suddenly furrowing. "...You're in there, princess. Come on, man. Don't do this to me again - you've got to hang in there."

For a moment, Rocky felt One-ler's struggling subside. The rockstar exhaled sigh of relief.

"That's right. I'm right here. The infection's a bitch, but you're so much _fucking_ stronger than it, alright?" Swag moved his hands down to One-ler's arms, squeezing them tightly.

Another growl escaped One's throat, a sound that certainly wasn't human. He turned his face towards Swag again, saliva oozing down from his lips. He leaned forward, fighting to reach the other again.

"One - come on, dude," Swag tried again, voice softening. "...You can do this - I need you to come back for me, man. Don't give up." He grimaced. _"Look_ at me."

...And his movements stilled again. A constant back and forth.  
"Grrrrr-nnngh..." One-ler's lip twitched. "Can't-" And his voice dipped away into a growl again.

Swag frowned. "You can. You fucking _can_ \- this is just some stupid pussy illness, remember?" 

"Can't - help it anymore," One-ler's eyes leered up at him.

"You can - you just have to try. I can't let you give up, man." Swag's voice dropped, momentarily, to a murmur.

"...Ghh-" One-ler's voice dropped away into a growl again.

...Swag paused. Then hesitated. "...Princess, you _remember me,_ right?"

One-ler suddenly lashed out, so suddenly that Rocky almost lost his grip on his arms. He didn't answer.

"Princess - come on... it's me, Swag," he reached out a hand unflinchingly, angling One-ler's head up to look at him. "We're pals. You, me, Poprocks - do you remember Poprocks?"

One-ler stared for a second. Another. Another...  
And with a gurgling shriek, he chomped down on Swag's hand.

"-Fuck!" Swag jerked his hand back, pressing the wounded limb against his chest with a wary, angry grimace.

"..." This was hard to watch. Rocky could feel his heart sinking into a place of dread, forgotting for a moment that he had the ability to speak. "I think he's having trouble remembering, Swag."

"I know," Swag dismissed forcefully. "Just-" He grabbed One-ler's shoulders, shaking the other forcefully. "Come on! Snap out of it, I believe in you, dude! It's _me!_ It's Swag! 'Big gay' - remember?" A desperation Rocky hadn't heard before had started to seep into his voice. "You can do this, One-ler! If no one else fucking will, _I'll_ fucking believe in you! I've always fucking believed in you!"

One-ler only continued to struggle, attempting to turn his body around and take a swipe at Rocky now.

"-Ah-!" Rocky squeezed more tightly, ducking his head down.

"Princess, come on!" Swag begged. "Say something! You were talking to me before, right?"

"Hh-" One-ler froze up abruptly, body trembling violently. "H-hh-"

"Come on, that's it," Swag urged. "You can do it. Hang in there."

"Hh- _hurtsss,"_ One-ler finally choked up. " _It hurts."_

Swag suddenly looked like he'd been struck. For a moment, he struggled for his words. "...Hang on, Princess," he promised. "Hang in there, man. I still need you, I still need you to hang on. I'll-" He looked down at Rocky. "Go back to the jeep."

Rocky lifted his shaded glare. _"Do what?"_ Leave? _Why?_

"Get his hello kitty backpack - or Clarisse, or something," Swag urged. "I can handle him until you're back. He just needs help remembering, or something... I'm not going to give up on him."

Rocky bit down on his lip, hesitating, before pulling his hands back from One-ler. "-Be careful, Swag. Are you sure you don't want me to watch?"

One-ler surged forward, Swag snatching up his wrists and attempting to retain the position Rocky had taken only moments before. "Just go, asshole!"

But Rocky couldn't move, watching the scene unfold. "...Swag, listen-"

"What, are _you_ deaf, too?" Swag snapped, a begging, pathetic sort of desperation lacing his tone. "Get the fucking bag!"

Every muscle in the rockstar's body told him no, but...  
His eyes glazed over, finding the floor again. "...Alright." _He's just stressed._ Rocky knew it. _...He's just scared of losing someone.  
...He can't accept it.  
_It didn't make the coldness sting any less, though.  
"...Just be careful. I'll be back soon."

And he left quickly.

* * *

Swag grappled briefly with One-ler, realizing just how difficult the task was when he was the only one left to do it. "Just sit down, man, come on, You're in there. Look at me. Look at my face..." Reaching up both his hands, he cupped One-ler's face, fingers clinging with fleeting desperation. "We're _friends._ Do you remember?"

One-ler stopped again, resuming his violent shaking, even more unsteady than before. But something in his eyes - something was present.

_Yes - come on!_ "...I love you, man. I _love_ you. I love you, and you're going to break out of this. Because you're strong, and you've got so much fucking willpower. You lasted this long, you can last a little more."

"Hh-" One-ler's words faltered, as if the ability to speak was foreign to him. _"Hurts,"_ he insisted again. " _Everywhere."_

"It doesn't matter if it hurts," Swag insisted. "We'll fucking find something out. Just don't get lost on me, man. Are you still there?"

One-ler looked left - right - left - right - left - too fast.

"You don't have to be scared. Even if it hurts, you can control it. I've seen you do it before. You're the baddest motherfucker there is. I _believe in you._ " Swag's tone had adopted the itch of One's body, starting to fumble over itself.

"... _Gghh,_ " One-ler's eyes squeezed shut. " _Can't - hurts - too much..._ "

"...Come on, man... you're getting there," Swag tried desperately. He shoved away intrusive thoughts.  
 _You're only prolonging his suffering. He's in pain. And you can't fucking let him go._ Swag bit his tongue to blood, shaking his head to clear it of his self-doubt.  
He squeezed One-ler's hands - but that didn't feel like enough.  
So he surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend, squeezing him into a hug. _Please. Please, please..._ Like a brother he never hand, slipping like sand through his fingers.  
_Please, please, please... don't go. I can't lose you. I can't lose you._ He squeezed more tightly, his needing thoughts pressing into words on his tongue. " _I can't lose you. I need you - please, please, please, man... I can't lose you..._ " Tighter, tighter. " _I can't lose anyone else... I can't lose you to this..."  
_ Pressure, pressure, pressure. He felt it building at the back of his skull. Pressure, pressure, pressure. he was going to - he was going to lose his damn head - he couldn't even tell why.  
Now Swag was the one shaking.

And he felt One-ler hug him back, arms tightening slowly around him.

And Swag was finally able to breathe.

...Tighter.

Swag looked up questioningly.

_...Tighter._

Swag's voice strangles in his throat as he felt One-ler's fingernails digging into his back. _Wait._

_Deeper. Deeper. Deeper._

"Princess - what are you doing?" But as Swag attempted to to pull away, he was only tugged back, One-ler's gaping smile waiting for him.  
Teeth sunk into Swag's shoulder, disappearing beneath his skin as his _friend_ fed hungrily on his flesh.

A friend, who he could hardly recognize for one, terrifying moment.  
And one who tore away the chunk of meat without any remorse.

"- _F-Fuck!_ " Swag's voice stuttered, attempting again to pull away, only to be unceremoniously pushed to the ground.  
Swag attempted to get to his feet, but as he rose, someone had already taken a hold of his ankle, sweeping his leg out from under him. He tumbled to the ground unceremoniously, the wound in his shoulder flaring up as it slammed into the ground.

Swag rolled onto his back just as One-ler climbed atop him.  
Swag tried to summon some familiar catchphrase. Something to catch One-ler off-guard, something to spark recognition in him again. _'Hey! You're taking this relationship a little fast, princess. Am I that hot?'_ But he could hardly muster the words.  
They felt naïve - they felt trapped in his lungs.  
Swag was _scared.  
_He was _too scared_ to talk.  
"One! Princess!" He tried desperately, to no avail.

One-ler had already gone back to feasting on the wound in his shoulder, his rotten, jagged teeth already tearing away at whatever substance it could easily latch onto.

Swag attempted to shove away, but One-ler was too strong. He grimaced, swallowing a cry of pain. "C-Come on! You're - my - my friend...!" His attempts to fight back grew unusually weak - he couldn't tell why the energy drained from him so quickly.  
His _friend_ was eating him alive.

His hand felt along the ground, desperate for some kind of grip - desperate for something to help him escape.  
_Come on, come on, come on...  
_His hand passed over nothing but the dry, musty earth beneath him.

Swag choked desperately as he felt One's teeth sinking deeper, growing nearer and nearer to eating out his throat.  
He fumbled around hastily on his other side. Earth, dirt, twigs...  
...And there was a rock.  
Heavy, sharp, jagged.

And everything became a blur.  
The contact between the rock in his hand and One-ler's head made a sick, ugly _cracking_ sound, but he couldn't find it in himself to stop.  
A hum overtook the air, buzzing, like someone was drilling into Swag's head.  
Once One was down, the sound kept going.  
It went by itself.  
_Crack!  
Crack! Crack..._  
His shoulder throbbed in oozing red pain, dancing like cockroaches coddling a rotten wound.  
He couldn't tell anymore, whether the blood on his hands was his own or One's.  
Or some hideous mixture of them both.

Swag's hand kept going. Every time he breathed, he struck him.  
_Hurting? You're hurting? You're hurting, huh?_ He just had to beat some sense into him. Just beathimdown _beathim_ intotheground _wake up! Wake up! Come on, princess!_  
_Are you still hurting? Huh? Still hurting?_  
Swag's thoughts were a garble of words, thoughts that threw themselves together as he lost control of his body.

Bloodspray painted his face, the ground, soaked his hands.  
There was _blood everywhere.  
Everywhere, _like some kind of awful art project. A macabre display of blood and brain and pieces of his brotherhood bashed into bits.  
  
"Swag! Swag!" Hands were on him suddenly, shaking him desperately. "Holy _shit,_ Swag - are you okay?"

Swag's hand, still in the air, mid-swing - it froze. The blood-soaked rock fell from his hand and collided to the ground with a sharp _thud._

He looked down in horror at the crater on the ground that had once been his friend's head.  
And somehow the first thought in his head haunted him.  
_Finish the job. Come on._

Like Bitter and Entre, he assumed. The job was done, but it never felt done. He still felt One-ler's life clinging to his mangled body. _He's hurting.  
_And Swag had killed him.  
_I - killed him.  
I killed him.  
_How long had he been there? How long had he been there beating him lifeless?

He stood abruptly, shaking Rocky's attempts to reach him as warm, sticky tears washed his face of the drying, scarlet ichor.  
And he shoved the rockstar - too distant to register just how hard he'd shoved him until he felt the other colliding to the ground, One-ler's backpack still slung over one shoulder.

...  
Swag moved.  
Swag clung to himself, breath shaking slightly as he meandered.  
Aimless.  
Lost.  
Tears stinging his eyes and flushing fresh salt into his wounds.  
Trying to find himself.

Which one of them had lost their mind, again?


	11. To Have and To Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for this chapter include self-harm

When Rocky came back along, hands smeared with blood that wasn't his, Entre knew.  
When he saw how _shaken_ the rockstar was as he entered the tent, Entre didn't even need to be told that One-ler had died.  
  
He knew.  
But he listened anyway as Rocky recounted, after having guided Ted away from the room - likely to tell _him_ separately.  
  
...  
And Entre nodded.  
"Where - uh... where _is_ Swag?" He had to ask, pulling the covers up slightly as he chewed at his tongue.  
  
"...Walked off. I was going to go look for him. Should I tell him to go see you when he gets back? Might be pretty pissed off..." Rocky seemed... very tired.  
More tired than normal. More sickly than normal.  
The morning had done a number on him.  
  
Entre nodded again.  
"...Are you okay?" He asked, lips pressing together.  
  
"...Don't worry about me," Rocky assured. "I'll, uh... come back later. I don't think I'm the one you need to worry about right now, though." The rockstar stuck his hands into his pockets, posture downcast.  
  
"Are you sure?" Entre checked, voice lowered. "...I don't think - _this_ was easy on either of you."  
  
"..." Rocky's eyes closed. "I - well... I think need to talk to the kid right now. Make sure he's doing alright first." Rocky paused. "...After that, if you're free and feeling alright, then - sure. We can hang out."  
  
"...Yeah, alright." Entre cleared his throat. "See you then."  
  
And Rocky left.  
  
And a strange span of time passed, one that felt like longer than it likely was.  
Entre grew restless the longer and longer and longer he waited without Swag's arrival.  
  
_Is he in danger?_ It wasn't unusual for Swag to put his life into jeopardy, especially when he was feeling self-destructive.  
A second too long had drawn by, and Entre sat up, reaching out a hand to grab for his crutches.  
  
And right then, the tent flap unzipped itself, and Swag slipped in through the doorway.  
  
Entre blinked up, sitting up on the edge of his bed as his partner came into view. "...Swag," he addressed, almost hesitantly. Pausing, he inclined his head slightly, patting his place beside him. "You can sit here, if you want."  
  
Swag drew a hand across his brow, a cigarette, burned down to a stub, hanging loosely from his mouth.   
The shoulder of his coat was disheveled, a bit of blood soaking through the pleather and staining his dark green shirt.   
He looked terrible.  
But at Entre's invitation, he exhaled a huff of clouded smoke, flicked the cigarette back into the dirt behind him, and sunk down into the corner of the bed beside Entre.  
  
Entre sat on his knees, reaching out a hand to tug gently at Swag's coat. "...Can I see your shoulder? I just want to bandage it up."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Swag mumbled, shrugging the coat from his shoulders, but no farther.  
  
...Entre bit his lip. "... _Can I see your arms, too,_ " he murmured softly.  
  
"..." Swag exhaled a soft breath before removing the rest of his jacket, dropping it briefly on the ground.  
  
Entre couldn't say he was surprised to find Swag's arms coiled in fresh bandages, but his heart leapt to his throat all the same.  
He took a moment to stare, eyes darting down as he squeezed his knees.   
_I know - how you feel._ He wasn't sure that was the right thing to say to him. _I know how much it hurts. I know how awful it feels._   
What would _he_ have wanted to hear? Entre found his resentful thoughts drifting so often back in time, wishing someone had spoken to him. _What did I want them to tell me? What did I never get to hear?  
_After giving a quick breath, Entre rested a hand atop of Swag's, not sure where to begin.  
  
_It's not your fault._ That's what Entre always wanted to hear. _It's not your fault._ But he knew Swag, and he knew the kinds of things that made him upset.  
"Do you need anything?" He finally said, shifting around in his seat to pull the first aid box out from under his bed, giving Swag's bandaged arms another quick glance.  
  
Swag's expression was hard. The kind of expression someone fronted with when they wanted to appear more put together than they actually felt. When they were about to fall apart.  
"No," he dismissed. "I just..." He didn't finish.  
  
Entre tugged up Swag's shirt slightly, attempting to get vantage of the wound. "...It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. I get it. Just... _know_ that I get it. You know...?"  
Met with silence, he glanced back up. "...You're not here by yourself, I mean. If you need anything, I-"  
  
"I know," Swag exhaled tugging his shirt off over his head. "...I don't want to hear about it."  
  
...Entre nodded slowly, leaning over and examining the wound.  
_...Jeez._ It wasn't pretty. The entrepreneur went to work sewing up the skin, wordlessly settling into the rhythm of closing the wound. Then, sorting through the box of first aid, he smeared an anti-biotic atop the wound and taped down a layer of gauze. With a soft sigh, Entre put the box away, glancing back up at Swag.  
"...I - I know you said not to talk about it," Entre began. "But... he was _in pain,_ Swag. He was _in pain._ "  
  
" _Don't,"_ Swag warned. " _Don't_ give me that bullshit."  
  
"I-" Entre faltered again, taking Swag's hand in his own. "Listen. I won't - I won't make you listen to me, but it's _not_ bullshit. Let me say that, okay...?" He took a deep breath. _What did I want to know? What did I need to hear?_ He wanted to reach him. He was tired of failing to make connections when Swag _needed_ him.  
"...You didn't want to hurt him, and I didn't want to hurt Bitter either. But you know what you told me when I - uh, took care of him? You told me that I'd done a brave thing... because I did something that _hurt_. I did something that hurt, but _protected_ other people. And I did something that _helped_ someone who was suffering." Swag hadn't said that last part, but Entre chose to embellish for the sake of a few extra reassuring words. "And you... you weren't even trying to hurt anyone. You did the best you could, and even if it didn't end up bringing him back, you gave it everything you had. And - and that's good enough."  
  
A rage that had been boiling in Swag's pointed stare finally bubbled into his voice. "No, dumbfuck. It's _not_ good enough! He's fucking dead! Because I killed him!" Swag shook, gaze heated. "I caved his fucking head in with a fucking rock, right when he _trusted me_ to turn him back! Right after I told him I wouldn't-" His voice broke. " _Give up on him._ Right when I told him I wou-wouldn't... I wouldn't..." His voice disappeared, Swag's face shoved suddenly into his hands.  
  
Entre flinched with alarm, watching Swag for a moment as his mind raced with uncertain solution. _Frick, I have to - make this better._ "He attacked you. Even if you were trying - he attacked you, and you acted in self-defense." That's what he'd been able to put together from Rocky's description, and he prayed suddenly that it was true.   
  
"Stop trying to make it okay," Swag snapped, glaring up at him. His eyes were red and puffy, producing stray of tears. "It's _not_ okay! It never fucking will be! He was my best friend who I promised would make it. I needed him! I needed him - and I couldn't even _help him_ when he needed me. It's my fucking fault he's dead!" His eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Entre rested his hand on Swag's knee. _Think - come on, think._ He wasn't going to back down anymore. "...Okay," he tried softly. "...I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it seem okay..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...But I - want to help you... can I try?"  
  
Swag sniffled, not making eye contact.  
  
"...Swag," he tried, gentler still. "... _Swag._ I'm sorry." Entre reached out a hand to brush Swag's hair from his face, which the other allowed. None of this had worked. _Entre, stupid piece of shit - can't even take care of your own boyfriend,_ Entre's jaw clenched at his own failure.  
...No - he was missing something. What did he _really_ want to hear after he'd stolen Bitter's life? What did he really want to be assured about?  
...Ah.  
He knew.  
  
Entre slowly wrapped his arms around Swag, giving him a light squeeze as he pressed his face into the other's unwounded shoulder.  
" _I love you,_ Swag. I love you - so, _so_ much. And if you want to blame this on me, it's okay. I was the one that started this whole mess in the first place. Not you."  
  
...Swag didn't speak at first.  
"...It's not your fault, either," he finally responded.  
  
...Entre nodded slowly, lifting a hand to brush a few more strands of Swag's hair from his face. "Lie down," he urged gently. "...You can lie down if you want."  
  
Swag did lie down, pivoting briefly and leaning back until he managed to meet the mattress. He stared at the ceiling.  
  
Entre lay beside him, face angled towards him. "I'm glad you're okay," he added softly. "...I was - worried..."  
  
Swag glanced over, and Entre became certain he was going to brush off his feelings. _'That's gay,'_ or some other motion to dodge the conversation. Or worse, he's snap at him again.  
But Swag's words took Entre by surprise.  
"...I'm sorry for that time I beat the shit out of you."  
  
"...You - oh..." Entre paused. "...After Bitter, you mean...?"  
  
"...Yeah. I'm sorry," he said gradually, turning his face slightly. His face contorted slightly. "...I think you're good with a crossbow, too. I was going to mention that. Good shot."  
  
Entre's cheeks warmed, and a faint smile managed to tug at his lips. _...You think I have good aim?_ Perhaps it shouldn't have lifted his spirits up as much as it did.  
"...Hey. Learned it from you," he praised softly, exhaling a soft breath. Entre took. up Swag's hands in his own again, giving them an assuring squeeze. "...But - thank you. Really."  
He paused, leaning in to press a delicate kiss to Swag's cheek. Then, cupping Swag's face with his other hand, he pressed another to his jaw. He wanted to badly to promise - _'I'm going to fix everything. I'm going to make it better. I'm going to make this worth it.'_ But those naive words dried on his tongue. "I love you," he added again, in murmur. "...And - I know we promised each other we wouldn't give up. I know things... seem really, really shitty right now, but I want to keep that promise." He cleared his throat.  
  
Swag's hand lifted, sniffling as he wiped at his eyes, before petting Entre's hair tiredly. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Swag sat up slowly, a hand still resting protectively on Entre's shoulder. "...Man, you should be holding on to your mask," he changed the subject, feeling around the end table until he snatched up the mask, handing it over to Entre.  
  
"Oh - that's right, thanks..." Entre sat up too, turning away to occupy the corner of the bed. Pressing the mask to his face, he took a few tired huffs. He wasn't sure how practical it was now that he was missing an ear, but that was no reason to let himself be contaminated - _maybe we should go buy another one..._  
And then he felt a pair of arms pulling him into a hug.  
  
Entre paused, glancing backward as his posture eased. "...Swag..." Entre turned around, sitting on his knees as he scooted into the embrace, hugging back.  
He felt a cough welling in his throat, so he squeezed his eyes shut tight, and pulled closer.  
  
Swag pressed his hand against the back of Entre's head, letting it rest quietly on his unwounded shoulder.  
"...I love you, too." He said finally. "...I need you, man. I really fuckin' need you..."  
  
Ah...  
Entre suddenly felt the need to speak, his cheeks flushing silently.  
But, as the seconds drew by... _no._  
Maybe they needed this silence - a self-indulgent silence.  
  
Maybe they just needed to hold one another.  
  
So Entre closed his eyes, hugging Swag tightly and falling quiet.  
  
_I love you, I love you...  
  
_The silence echoed like a void.  
  
_And I'm not going to let you go._


	12. Look Alive, Sunshine

The morning was quiet.  
As Rocky stuffed away his things into the trunk of the jeep, he took a wary glance over at Ted, doing the same.  
The kid had been awfully quiet - but so had everyone, Rocky noticed.  
  
Rocky took a moment to ruffle the kid's hair. "Hey, Lil' Freddy," he addressed softly, pulling open the car door and sitting himself in the back seat. "How d'ya wanna borrow my guitar and play us a few tunes during the car ride today."  
  
Because it wasn't like the Hello Kitty backpack was going to see any use anytime soon, and Swag didn't seem to be in the mood for the radio.  
  
Ted blinked, before giving a slow nod. "Oh! I mean... if you'd let me..."  
  
"'Course. Anything for my number one fan - or... at this point, maybe it's me who's _your_ number one fan." Rocky winked, leaning back in his seat as he glanced ahead.  
  
...He caught a glimpse of himself through the cracked image of the rearview, and saw a pair of faintly-glowing yellow eyes staring back. His sickly complexion had sprouted the foundation of a few speckles of gold, illuminated faintly with firefly pus.  
Rocky cleared his throat abruptly, looking down. "-Once Swag and Entre get in, I'm sure it'd be welcome."  
He handed the axe guitar carefully over to Ted, giving a faint smile as he did so. "...Watch the edges."  
  
Rocky was thankful when Ted finally took the instrument, since his fingers had started to go numb.  
Cough. Cough, cough.  
Rocky gave a thumbs up.  
_...I'm dying._  
"What're you gonna play for us first?"  
  
"Well, I remember Highway to Hell," Ted chimed proudly. "Remember, when you taught me the notes?"  
  
Rocky nodded, but faltered. _When - was that? Oh - right, the campfire..._ "Yeah... good on 'ya, Lil' Freddy. That's killer taste, I'll sing along with you."  
  
Eventually Entre and Swag made their way to the jeep together.  
Entre using his crutches, and Swag not far behind, monitoring him.  
  
_Seems like they made it out alright._ Rocky wasn't so foolish to assume their wasn't still grief in the air.  
Rocky had chosen not to bring it up, but a large _emptiness_ loomed over his head, and upon the empty seat where One-ler had previously been seated on their little road trip.  
And as his eyes lifted into the rearview, staring at themselves and their faint, golden glow, a bitter taste formed in his mouth.  
_When's it gonna be my turn to go?_  
  
Swag started the engine, giving a side glance to Entre to ensure his mask was in use, before glancing back at Rocky and Ted in the back.  
"Based on the maps, there should be a store around here. Gonna run inside and see if I can find a better mask for this nerd," he jabbed his thumb to the side at Entre, before continuing. "Then - uh... if we drive out for a bit longer, we should find a motel, n' we can stay the night. Sound good?"  
  
Rocky and Ted both nodded stiffly, and Swag nodded back, turning around to grip the wheel.  
  
But as Rocky glanced over to Ted, wondering briefly when he'd begin - the kid didn't.  
  
He stared at the guitar strings instead, leaning back in his seat and letting the guitar rest unsecured in his lap. He glanced at Rocky uncertainly.  
  
"...Here, I could play something if you want," the rockstar offered quietly, hoping to take the pressure off of Ted.  
  
"...Yeah - uh... I'm sorry. Just worried I'd mess up," Ted mumbled, not making eye contact with Rocky as he passed the guitar back.  
  
"Nah, don't worry about it," Rocky dismissed.  
...But even then, he wasn't sure where _he_ wanted to begin.  
  
So they drove in silence.  
  
They drove in silence, until the jeep finally slowed to a stop and Swag left.  
  
...The three occupants in the jeep finally fell to silence.  
  
Until, finally, it was Entre who turned in his seat and squinted at the people in the back seat.  
"...Uh - you two good?" He addressed, almost awkwardly.  
  
"Survivin'," Rocky promised. "Just - hm. Taking things in, in my case." His eyes moved down as his throat cleared. He wasn't going to lie and pretend like the emptiness wasn't eating him alive. He'd already fought to hold back tears enough times thinking about One-ler and Swag, both. _No one should have to kill their friend.  
_And yet, three of the people in the car had done it.  
And Rocky wasn't one of them.  
"How about you, Lil' Freddy?" Rocky tilted his head at Ted, who glanced between the two once-lers quietly.  
  
"I - well. I... miss Mister One-ler," Ted's voice was weak, eyes also downcast.  
  
"..." Entre took a few noise huffs of air through his mask, still pressed to his face with one hand as the straps hung free around his neck. "...Yeah. I'm - sorry."  
  
"...Nah - not your fault." Rocky tried not to look in the rearview mirror as he found himself scratching at his face, fingers touching obsessively over a new protrusions in the surface of his skin. "...How've you been doing. With your ear and your ankle? You resting up?"  
  
"Well, not like I've been walking anywhere," Entre managed to laugh softly. "Been hurting a little less. On a few too many painkillers, if you ask me... makes me pretty tired all the time."  
  
"I know the feeling," Rocky agreed, feeling rather tired himself. The rockstar pressed a cough into the back of his hand. "Mmng. Cough getting better?"  
  
"...Nope," Entre sighed. "...Got a fever this morning. Hopefully it'll die back down once we're settled."  
  
"...Hm. Swag know about that?"  
  
"...Sorta," Entre mumbled, taking his mask down briefly to cough into the palm of his hand.  
  
"...Mm," Rocky let the vague answer slide. "Hopefully we'll arrive at that motel, and you can get back to resting up and kicking ass soon."  
  
"...Heh, thanks," Entre sighed softly, his gaze poking up as a distant door slamming alerted them all to Swag's return.  
  
The conversation ended there.  
  


* * *

  


The motel was abandoned - of course.

The keys were at the front desk, and the rooms they'd chosen to occupy were up a small flight of stairs.

Leaving Entre's crutches outside the front door, Swag approached the other from behind. "Alright, prom queen. Want a lift up?" He managed to be playful.

"I mean, if you can make it up all those stairs carrying me," Entre seemed hesitant, resting a hand on his new mask out of habit.

Entre had complained about the thing being a little too tight - and it certainly looked it, in Rocky's opinion. _Guess that's how it stays on._

"Psh. You think I can't fucking walk up the stairs?" Swag challenged, shifting his cigarette to the other side of his mouth. "One second; hold on tight."  
And, lifting Entre up in bridal ceremony, he started up the stairs.

...  
Rocky remained in the car, a bemused smile crossing his face as he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at the couple going upstairs.  
Then he cocked his head over at Ted, a faint smile finding his face. "...I wanna show you how to drive. Wanna give it a try?"

Ted gasped suddenly, sitting up in his seat. "Drive... the jeep?"

"Yeah. The jeep," Rocky encouraged softly. "Sure they wouldn't mind if I showed you a few tricks. Here, go sit in the front seat, and I'll sit in passenger's."

And so they took their positions at the front of the car, Rocky indicating the different pedals and gears in brief summary. "You wanna try driving it around?" 

"Oh! Yeah.. uh - how do I reach the pedals?" Ted ducked his head down to observe the lower mechanisms of the car.

Reaching over, Rocky adjusted his seat. "--Here, can you reach 'em now?"

Ted stretched a leg out, one to each pedal. "Yeah, I can."

"Good, alright. Hold onto that wheel."

Driving lessons went on for a short while, nothing terribly complicated. Just a back and a forth , and an occasional turn. It was easy to get lost in the process, rewatching the same stretch of pavement from different angles, before observing Ted's attempts to turn the jeep around and begin again.

Until it wasn't.

-The jeep stopping was so abrupt that Rocky lurched in his seat, shaking his head rapidly as he glanced over to Ted. "Hey, Lil' Freddy, what's-"  
But his words fell short as he noticed the boy's head in his hands, his body shaking.  
"Ack - the break-!" Rocky reached over, jerking the gear swiftly into park with a brief sigh before sitting back. Looking over, Rocky's expression fell into a frown. "...Kid?"

Ted shook his head, face still covered up. "Sorry - I... I'm just..." His hands grabbed fistfuls of hair. "...I miss - Mister One-ler..." Ted sniffled, glancing up, eyes puffy. "...When I killed Creep, I... I-" Ted rubbed at his eyes. "Had to c-cut his head off... because he was too infected. Did - did Mister One-ler...?"

Rocky's throat went dry. He - _ah, God._  
"Uh - go away like Creep, you mean...?"

Ted nodded quietly, glancing up. "...That's... what happened to Bitter, too. Isn't it?"

"..." Rocky swallowed hard. "...Ah, well. This time it was an accident, I think. Entre - uh..." No, it hadn't been Entre. " _Swag_ just wanted to talk him out of it, and... I think what happened was an accident. Ah... I..." He rested the back of his hand against his forehead, hoping, for once, that his memory _did_ fail him. Rocky didn't want to remember One-Ler's corpse.

Ted couldn't meet his gaze. "...Are - is something like that going to happen to us, too...?"

"..." Rocky felt a chill running through his body. _It-_  
"I won't let it happen to you, Ted," Rocky promised. Another promise he knew he couldn't fulfill. "I... uh..." He paused mid-sentence, coughing into his hand. "I wouldn't-" Another cough, eating up his words and subjugating him to the repetitive dispelling of air into his hands.  
Until finally that fine, scarlet ichor, too, dampened his palm in a sickly red ooze.  
He looked away, wiping away the fresh blood on his pants as he breathed out a soft breath. "Listen, Lil' Freddy..." But as he looked up, he recognized tears beginning to stream down the child's face. "I-I'm sorry, that wasn't the best timing. Hey," the rockstar put a hand on Ted's shoulder. "Look at me, man."

Ted glanced up, his human eye red and puffy.

"...You're gonna be fine. Entre's on his way to get that cure right now," Rocky assured. "And you're going to be okay. Alright? You just gotta hang tight." He cleared his throat. "...And if you want to talk about - uh... One-ler..." He exhaled softly. "...I think that's something I need, too."

Ted sniffled softly, nodding. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Good, alright. Just - uh..." He glanced through the window, catching his yellow-tinted gaze in the mirror before his eyes could flinch away.  
A half-mutated monster he couldn't recognize.  
"Just pull over to the side of the road."


	13. Letterbomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: past s/h implications

The storm had settled overnight.  
When Entre woke in the morning, one glance out the window proved enough to keep them indoors another day.  
  
Entre was judging the atmosphere outside as Swag appeared behind him, stealing a glance over his shoulder.  
"...Aw, fuck," the other huffed. "Gotta move the jeep outta the fuckin' rain..."  
  
And some rain it was.  
  
Entre bit his lip as he watched Swag disappear out of the door to their shared motel room.  
_We're losing time..._ and time was the last thing they had. Things already felt too strained - _and stress makes the turning process faster - ah, shit._  
It came down to whether or not Entre trusted any of them to drive - especially in rain like this. _Swag's too reckless..._ but he could be trusted to slow down, couldn't he?  
How much could one break day cost them?  
  
As the entrepreneur watched Swag struggle with the jeep from afar, he turned back to his desk with a sigh, helping himself over to the chair rapidly and resting his crutches against the bed behind him.  
...He didn't like feeling useless.  
_...So I'll do something useful._ If the roads were too slick to drive, and his fever was too high to subject to cold weather, then... he'd do _something.  
_Before this, useful was making a meal for the camp, but there wasn't much to make, and there wasn't much of a camp to serve.  
But Entre had _one_ thing he could do...  
He snatched up the crutches again, hobbling to the door and waving to Swag down in the driveway.  
"Hey! Swag!" Entre dared not move out onto the balcony, not entirely keen on being soaked by the heavy rain that soaked the ground around them.  
  
Frowning over the jeep, Swag glanced up. "What?" He called.  
  
"My stuff. My _lab_ stuff - it's in the back. Could you bring it inside for me?"  
  
"...What am I, your waiter?" Swag sassed softly, but was already moving back to the trunk in order to rifle for it. "It's fuckin' in here - you need it now?"  
  
"Yeah, may as well..." He paused, pausing to cough lightly. "...Observe something, if we're going to be stuck here for the day." _  
  
_ "...Shit, alright," Swag said, loud enough to be heard, as he produced some of Entre's equipment from the back.  
Swag carried it up quickly, dripping with rain as he squeezed past Entre in the doorway to place the collection down on his bed.  
  
Entre turned slightly, pausing. "You have your boot on tight, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Swag turned around again, resting a hand on the wall. "Why's that? Worried I'm gonna fucking rust?"  
  
"Well," Entre considered bemusedly. "...Can you rust? Your leg's made of metal."  
  
"...Hmph," Swag didn't seem sure.  
  
"-Ah, anyway," Entre sat on the bed, sorting quickly through his equipment. "Before you go, can I take some blood?"  
  
"...This shit again?" Swag sighed, but sat at the corner of the bed, already tugging up his sleeve slightly - enough to reveal his wrist only. "...Can you take it from there?" He didn't want to mess with any of his bandaging, clearly.  
  
"...If - I'm careful, yeah," Entre exhaled a soft breath. "I just think _knowing_ now... you know. That you're carrying... that'll be helpful. Before-" He stopped, swabbing Swag's wrist briefly with a disinfectant wipe. "-I had no idea what I was looking at, you know? I thought I was looking at clean blood. Maybe knowing the situation I can put things together better..." Entre gripped Swag's wrist, giving it a brief look over.  
  
"...Yeah, okay," Swag complied.  
  
_No sass?_ Entre had come to expect teasing remarks from his partner, but none seemed to be coming.  
After a few more moments of seeking veins, Entre adjusted his grip, exhaling a quick breath as he inserted the needle with careful precision. He didn't dare look up from the blood draw. "...Swag, you - uh..." _You look awful._ "How are you feeling?"  
  
"..." Swag huffed softly.  
  
"...I want to hear how you're doing," he added softly. "Even if it'd kinda 'gay,' you know?"  
  
"...Shit's fucked up," Swag answered after a moment.  
  
"..." Entre nodded solemnly, stealing a quick glance up just to get a read of Swag's expression.  
  
It was something hollow.  
  
"...I - yeah... I'm sorry," he apologized softly. "...I know it hurts. A lot. Just..." He cleared his throat. He wasn't used to prying.  
The only time he'd asked about Prisma was to reprimand Swag's cruelty towards Ted. Words stuck in his throat.  
_I can't let you become like I am. I can't let you become someone like this._ Swag always said they were both fuck-ups, and maybe it was true. But Entre wanted to do _something_ to help him. _  
But what?_  
"...Just know that you can talk to me. But we don't _have_ to talk about it at all, either."  
  
"...Got it," Swag mumbled.  
  
...Entre had never seen him so _quiet._ Angry, sure. But he wasn't even acting with anger anymore. All his doors felt shut tight. There was no way in. _Are you in there?_ It was eerie.  
Anger didn't just disappear. It must have been building, or-  
Entre sighed as he slipped the needle out of Swag's wrist, covering the exit quickly with a square of gauze.  
"Anyway... I'll be looking at this blood all day - if you... wanted to stay inside because of all the rain." He gave a light-hearted sigh, then a jesting smile. "I _guess_ I wouldn't mind you staying in here with me."  
  
"And watching you do nerd stuff at your nerd table over there?" Swag managed to chime along, taking his arm back from Entre's grasp.  
  
"Well-" His smile distorted quickly, a cough forcing itself up through his lungs. Then another, and another still.  
  
"Take your meds?" Swag checked in, tilting his head at the other.  
  
Entre coughed again, hesitating. "Mmg," he cleared his throat. " _The coughing one,_ yeah. Pain killers are bad for my focus... but since I have to work all day, I don't think I'll have the attention span if I take it..."  
  
...Swag frowned idly, before giving a soft huff. "Makes enough sense." He rose from the bed, slicking a hand through his still-wet hair. "Gotta move the jeep. Be back after."  
  
"Yeah, okay... see you then," Entre released him.  
  
And Swag left.  
  
Relocating himself at his desk, Entre fumbled through his supplies.  
His old notebook - _outdated._ He was going to have to start from scratch.  
Heaving out a sigh, Entre thumbed through his notes, examining old theories and trials that had failed. _Why don't you just give up? Swag already did.  
_Finding a blank page, Entre began his experimentation.  
  
Retrieving his _own_ blood posed no issue, so long as the needle he used was clean.  
Then, it came to comparing the slides, and beginning evaluations through a new lens.  
  
Looking into the microscope made Entre's eyes flinch away. _God - that's bright..._ It had been a while, hadn't it?  
The longer he sat and observed, the more he missed being drugged up.  
A low, dull ache began to throb inside his missing ear, spurred on by the unbearable _tightness_ of his mask's new strap. The feeling of his skull being compressed.  
_Come on now, grin and bear it._ The blood under the microscope had his full attention.  
...And his results were troubling.  
  
After a while, he could hear the door open and close faintly, but Entre didn't look up. "Swag," he greeted.  
  
"Hey," Swag's voice returned.  
  
...Entre couldn't hear his steps as he approached, but felt a presence taking place beside him.  
  
Swag asked something.  
  
And Entre couldn't understand that either. "Sorry," he still didn't look up. "I - uh, can you say that again?" He glanced up, eyes focused on the other's lips this time.  
  
"Find anything?" Swag asked. "You can keep working, but I'm gonna take that bandage off and check on your ear."  
  
"Oh, right, thanks..." Entre smiled faintly, taking in a quick breath and glancing back down.  
Suddenly the urge to remedy Swag's emotional turmoils entered his psyche again, even if he hardly knew where to begin. _Maybe he just needs someone to keep their head up._ Ah. Entre could try that.  
To be anything but a pessimist felt naive, but almost necessary. He could try.  
Casting his eyes back down, he squinted through the microscope again. "...It's weird. Our blood looks _really similar._ "  
  
_"Similar?"_ Swag annunciated loudly, to the point where it almost felt like a mockery.  
  
Entre felt the gauze being pulled away from the side of his head. "Okay, dude, I'm not _that_ frickin' deaf," he mumbled. "But yeah. Similar."  
  
"Was it always like that?" Swag's voice was louder, now. Less pronounced.  
  
"...No," Entre contemplated. "Not if - well..."  
He moved his head to check his notes, only for Swag to take a quick hold of his jaw, holding his head in place. Entre glanced askew at him, perking up a brow.  
  
"Hold still for a sec, I have to put the healing shit on there," Swag explained, lifting a thumb to dab across Entre's wound. "...Also the scab's sorta coming together. Pretty sure that's good."  
  
"Yeah, it's good," Entre confirmed softly, wincing as the contact with Swag's hand sent jagged alarm bells seething through his nervous system. He raised a hand to unclasp his mask, moving it down to his chin. "That better?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks..." Swag mumbled, clearing his throat as he he applied new gauze, taping new covering into place. "Can I see the slides?"  
  
"Oh - sure, yeah," Entre hurriedly pressed a fleeting cough into his hands, rising in an unbalanced fashion from his seat to allow Swag room. "First blood you'll see is yours."  
  
Swag sat, lining his eye up with the top of the microscope. "...Hm. Looks like blood."  
  
"Yeah, it does - move the slides down," Entre instructed, refastening his mask over his face as he helped himself around the back of the chair, glancing quietly over Swag's shoulder.  
  
"..." Swag did so. "...What differences were there before?"  
  
"Well, not... that many. But coloration was one," Entre explained. "...You can't see a difference either, can you?"  
  
"...Nope. They look the fuckin' same-" Swag lifted his head, taking to the skimming of Entre's old notes too.  
  
"I'm... not a biologist. Or even a doctor," Entre admitted hesitantly. "But it seems like something's changed between then and now."  
  
"...Right. Which one's different? Mine?" He turned in his seat, lifting his head to face his partner. "Y'think my badass immune system flushed it out?"  
  
"...I considered that," Entre admitted. "Which would be - great, actually. Seems a little too early to call something like that, though. Wanted a blood sample from Rocky, just to see all three next to each other."  
  
Swag nodded slowly. "...Right. Makes sense." He stood. "...I was going to go out n' get some food for the kid. Don't go do something fuckin' stupid while I'm out, alright?" His voice was coarse as usual, but his expression was unusually tense.  
He was asking Entre, with as much sincerity as he knew, to _stay safe._  
  
And Entre nodded. "Yeah, don't worry. I won't go far. Just here and Rocky's room."  
  
...Swag nodded slowly. "...Alright," he agreed softly. "...And then you'll get some rest."  
  
"...And then I'll get some rest," Entre promised.  
  
"And then you'll get better," Swag finished.  
  
"...And then I'll get better," Entre assured, smiling softly.  
  
Swag gave an entertained smile, raising a hand to ruffle Entre's hair. "'Kay, loser. See you around."  
  
"See you, dumbass."  
  
Swag rested a hand on the front door knob. "Says the idiot."  
  
"Says the little bitch," Entre teased.  
  
"Says the piece of shit," Swag finished, exiting the door and closing it briefly behind him.  
  
"...Says the asshole," Entre concluded, heaving out a long, tired breath.  
He returned his gaze to the table, a sudden weariness overcoming him.  
  
...God... when had he gotten so exhausted?  


* * *

  


Walking with one crutch was a little easier than it looked.  
Equipment in a small box under one arm, Entre took a quick peek over the balcony, observing Ted busying himself by jumping into puddles.

He shifted the box to his other hand briefly, lifting the other to knock quietly on Rocky's door. "Yo, Poprocks!" He called, realizing only after the fact that he'd borrowed Swag's nickname.

He glanced behind him, noticing Ted waving up at him from the parking lot.

With a soft smile, Entre waved back before returning his attention to the door. _...Hello?_ He knocked again, before testing the knob.  
_Unlocked._ Huh. _How long's Ted been out?_

Oh well. Entre cleared his throat, pushing the door open with a soft shove before helping himself inside. "Hello?"

The room was well-lit, everything in an orderly place. Rocky's and Ted's things had both been packed up - likely having anticipated another move today.  
And there, slumped over a desk, body trembling rigidly, was...

"...Rocky...?" Entre paused, setting the equipment on the bed as he hesitated at the door.

Rocky didn't move, his body still slumped slightly in the chair.  
His shoulders still shaking slightly.

As Entre drew closer, he could make out the remnants of blood left on the desk's corner, stained a deep, ugly brown.

"...Rocky...?" Entre swallowed hard, resting a hand on his hip where his weapons rested - only to retract the hand out of guilt.  
He eased closer slowly, growing inch by inch nearer to Rocky's figure.  
_This has to be recent - or else Ted would have found me._  
He cleared hit throat more loudly.  
Closer.  
Closer.

Rocky didn't move, still unreachable. By now Entre could hear the strain of his breathing.  
All of it felt eerie. Uncanny, really.  
The breath stuck in his throat, Rocky's fingers edged with the color of blood.

_Stress speeds turning._ Entre pushed the reminder from his head, stretching out his empty hand and grasping firmly onto Rocky's shoulder.  
"Poprocks?" He tried a more familiar nickname.

And with unnatural speed, the figure in the chair turned on him. Suddenly on his feet, a guttural, half-human sound oozed from Rocky's throat.  
His hand, still smeared with blood, took a firm hold of Entre's lapel and jerked him forward.

Rocky's chin was stained a dark scarlet, his eyes glowing a dull, pale yellow.  
A yellow Entre recognized with horror.  
Something hollow.  
Something _hungering._  
The same pair of eyes that belonged to One-ler, seconds before tearing Entre's ear from his body.

Entre barely had time to act as a terrified shout escaped his mouth. He held tightly onto his crutch, and in second that flew by him in heartbeats he had a second hand on the object, swinging it into a rough collision with his friend's jaw.

There was a sickening crack that accompanied the collision, Entre's jacket being released abruptly as the entrepreneur found himself dropped unceremoniously to the floor.  
Rolling, he started forward on his hands and knees, attempting to rise to his feet and reach the door.

...And there was a groan behind him.  
"- _Jesus,_ fuck..."

Standing himself against the wall, Entre glanced back, eyes still wide, lungs still circling oxygen too quickly to cling onto.  
Near-death all over again - he felt like he couldn't breathe.  
But he stopped, and he stared.

Rocky sat on the floor, disarrayed. His hand held against his nose, taking his hand away to find blood on his fingertips. "...Entre..." He glanced up, eyes still glowing a dull yellow, but an _apologetic_ yellow.

...Entre exhaled rigidly, a sudden weight dragging him back down to his knees. The weight of guilt, the release of fear. "...Rocky?"

"..." Rocky shook his head, then he shook it again, irritated, like some kind of twitch he couldn't control. "...Entre - I... I'm sorry, dude, I... didn't recognize you." He squeezed the bridge of his nose again, eyes squeezing shut.  
And in a voice weak and broken, he managed a soft: "I'm sorry - _fuck..."_

Entre scooted forward hesitantly. "I'm sorry, I-"

Rocky raised his other hand, still squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Don't blame yourself... sorry I - mm." He shook his head, exhaling a long, slow breath and managing to meet the entrepreneur's gaze. "I'm glad you did that."

"...You are?" Entre's breaths slowed down, heart still hammering in his chest.

"...Started coughing up blood and I - forgot... where I was, I guess. Who I... was, uh..." He cleared his throat. "...Glad you did that. 'Cause I think I would have hurt you, otherwise." He managed a melancholic smile.

"..." Entre nodded slowly. "Uh - here, let's... go to the bed, so I can look at your nose."

"...Right." Rocky didn't move.

"I promise, it's okay," Entre assured softly. "...Don't worry, uh... I just want to make sure it's not broken."  
Frankly, it was far from okay.  
_Bitter._ This was just like _Bitter_ all over again. Watching a friend turn into a monster right in front of him. Watching someone he recognized distorting by the day into someone who didn't know him.  
And having to - make _that choice._  
_Do I have to make that choice... again?_

Entre moved to the bed, watching Rocky cautiously as he thumbed through the objects inside of the first aid kit.

Rocky sat on the edge of the bed beside him, clearing his throat. "...Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Entre dismissed quickly, not wanting to think about it. "I'll - uh..." He shook his head, leaning in carefully to squint at Rocky's bloody nose. "Well. It's not broken."

Rocky laughed weakly. "That's good. My fans'd be pretty disappointed if my nose came back crooked."

"Yeah..." Entre rubbed his hands together, dabbing away at the blood on Rocky's chin with an anti-biotic wipe - enough to see the golden patches of pus hidden underneath.  
Every day he looked more like Bitter.  
"Uh, well..." Entre could hardly bring himself to say it, pressing an ice pack and a few paper towels into Rocky's hand. "...Freeze that and, well... keep it there until the swelling goes down. If there is any."

"Got it. Thanks, Entre." Rocky managed to muster a short-lived smile, which fell away quickly into something sullen.

And Entre felt his heart sinking.  
_...Rocky is dying._ It felt too real out of nowhere.  
_Rocky is dying.  
_"D-Do you," Entre hated how his voice stuttered. "Want - uh... listen." He didn't want to say it. "...I, uh... if you're in pain, and you... want-"

"...You to put me down," Rocky finished gently.

...Entre nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed stiffly. "If - uh..." His words died out.

"..." Rocky shook his head gently, resting a hand on Entre's shoulder. "...Listen. I don't want you to worry about that, alright? You've got a lot on your shoulders already. You don't have to take this into your hands, either."

"I... I'm sorry," Entre exhaled. "I just - can't... ignore it." He felt tears pressing at the back of his eyes.  
_My fault._ It was all his fault.  
His stupid illness from his stupid factory.  
His stupid idea that was pushing everyone to their limit.

"Don't be sorry, Entre," Rocky assured. "Not your fault. And it's not ignoring it, either. All I'm asking is that you don't feel like you have to take this into your hands all by yourself. Because you _don't._ Trust me. Can you do that?"

Entre couldn't meet the other's gaze as he nodded. _I'm so sorry._ He couldn't look at what he'd done to another person he cared for.

"...Okay." Rocky leaned back, sighing softly. "...Here, you're gonna need this." He leaned down, scooping Entre's crutch off the ground and offering it back to him. "Your leg okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, don't worry," Entre assured softly, resting the crutch beneath one arm, and scooping up his equipment in the other.

"...Mind if I walk you back? Just so I can open up the doors, and everything," Rocky said.

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Entre allowed.

The journey back was quiet. A door opened, and Entre hobbled through.  
Another opened, and Entre was back in his shared bedroom, even more drained than before.

Rocky cleared his throat behind him, causing Entre to set his box down and turn back around. "...Yeah?"

"...I meant what I said, uh... don't think too hard about what to do with me. We'll all figure this out at some point, and I don't want you to do all this thinking by yourself. Okay?"

"...Okay," Entre mumbled. "...Should I - uh... tell Swag?"

...Rocky's lips pressed together, glancing away.  
"... _Don't_ please," he murmured softly. "...Not yet. If you have to, that's okay. but..."

...Entre nodded quietly. "Okay. Uh..." He paused, gaze still on the floor. As he glanced up, he found himself leaning forward, wrapping an arm around Rocky and pulling him into a hug.

Easily, Rocky's arms hugged back, one patting Entre's shoulder briefly. "...Get some rest after this, man. Don't let what's going on with me get you down. _It ain't over 'til I'm underground_ , and right now, I'm here in front of you. Don't forget about that."

Entre cleared his throat, nodding as he exhaled a long-held breath. Finally, he pulled away, drawing a hand at his eyes as he finally began to feel tears escaping them. He choked - emitting a strange, strangled sound. He nodded.

Rocky paused, a look of shame washing over him. "...It's gonna be alright, man. I promise."

_You can't promise that._ Entre nodded anyway.

"...Hey, man. You're _doing_ a lot of good. Keep your head up, alright? Everyone here's rooting for you - not to add pressure." He paused. "...I'll let you go. Just don't forget we care about you, alright?"

"...I'm the one that should be comforting _you,"_ Entre mumbled, sniffling. "...Not the other way around."

Rocky shook his head. "Hey now. No one owes anything to anybody. Just try and... _take care of Swag,_ okay? That's enough to trouble yourself over until we figure something out."

"...Alright. I can try," Entre promised, shaking his head and exhaling a soft breath. "...Thank you, Rocky. And - please... uh. Take care of yourself, too..." _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

Rocky nodded, producing a thumbs up. He smiled, but it shook. The kind of tremble that implied _force._  
When you _smile_ so you don't start to cry.

Entre returned the thumb - and the smile, too.

And when the door finally closed between them, they released a collective breath.

As Entre sunk into his bed, the weight collapsed back onto him.  
He'd forgotten to take Rocky's blood, but he didn't want to continue researching any more.  
He sucked in a troubled breath, tugging his mask down as he buried his head in his hands, tugging his knees against his face as he choked up a strangled sob that he'd managed to shove down only seconds before.  
Choking, his hands shaking as he muffled the wounded noises of his own misery.  
Sob.  
Sob, sob.  
Sob, sob... cough.  
Cough, cough.  
 _Cough, cough, cough..._


	14. Arms Tonite

It was only when Entre woke up did he realize he'd been sleeping.  
  
"Hey - Entre-!"  
  
Entre groaned softly as he felt a hand shaking his shoulder. He raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the glaring light over his head. "...Swag...?" He asked, discombobulated.  
  
"Yeah, it's me," Swag responded gruffly. "The hell are you doing without your mask on?"  
  
"...Nngh..." Entre rubbed tiredly at his eyes, his gloved hands pressing to his face to muffle a few coughs into his palms. He felt suddenly very feverish. He could hardly keep his eyes open.  
  
Swag sat on the bed beside him, stripping a glove off to rest a hand against Entre's forehead. With a faint scowl, Swag sighed. "...'Kay, that's enough nerding out for you today. That's a fever."  
  
Entre could only rub at his eyes. "...Okay," he agreed softly.  
  
"Here, move over, I got some shit to show you." Swag paused, glancing up. "...You look fucking awful. Something happen?"  
  
Entre blinked slowly. _...Rocky._ That's right. It was coming back to him now. "...Just tired," he murmured. He felt _weak._ Entre felt weak. Enough energy had been drank from him today. He was tired of trying.  
  
"...Alright," Swag huffed softly as he flopped down beside the other, rifling through his coat pocket and producing a folded-up map. Shaking the paper open, Swag held the guide out in front of him, before glancing over at Entre.  
"Come here, you can have a look, too. Where are we headed tomorrow?"  
  
Entre narrowed his eyes, inching closer as he ducked under Swag's arm, resting tentatively along his side. He cozied himself there, nestling his face carefully along the bridge of Swag's shoulder as his fingers found a hold across the center of his chest. He could feel his partner's heartbeats echoing softly beneath his fingers.  
"Mm..." He squinted further, perturbed by the light. "...Alright. We're... here?" He lifted a finger, pressing the tip to a small square that indicated the motel.  
  
"...Yep. Which way are we headed, West, still?"  
  
"Mm-hm... along here," Entre guided with his finger. "Right here. See? There's a fork. Have to go the _left way..._ it'll take longer, but the other way seems riskier. Less secluded. Time difference won't be too bad either."  
  
"Makes sense... alright. Another camp?" Swag paused, folding the paper showily in half.  
  
"Yep, should be..." Entre nodded quietly. "It's a long drive... think it'll work?"  
  
"Yeah, sounds good." Swag aimed wordlessly, before tossing the folded map atop the end table a few inches away. Then, settling back down, Swag gave Entre's hair a passive pat. "Hey, idiot. You forgot something." He reached over Entre, fetching the other's mask before pressing it to the other's face. "Bet I'm starting to sound as annoying as you used to."  
  
"Oh. Right, thanks," Entre took the offering from Swag, holding it up to his face and waving off his partner's hand passively. After taking a huff or two, Entre rolled over slightly, breathing out a long sigh and pressing the mask to his fluttering heart instead.  
  
"...What is it?" Swag looked over, sitting up slightly.  
  
"... _I'm..._ " Entre swallowed the word at first. " _...Scared."_  
  
"...Scared? Of what?" Swag indulged.  
  
"...I think this was all a big mistake," Entre admitted, inching back into place against Swag's side, resting his forehead against the other's neck. "...I think I just - screwed everyone over again. I keep trying to-" He pressed a cough into his hand, still neglecting his mask. "- _Fix_ everything, but I... just - can't... I'll never make up for what I did, I..." His eyes closed.  
...He hadn't meant to say that much. Entre pressed the mask back to his face.  
  
"...C'mon, dude. Pucker up and suck it up," Swag encouraged. "So what? We all fuck up sometimes. Sure isn't the first time you fucked up, sure won't be the last either. If this is another fuck up, then at least we're out here trying to get something done instead of, I dunno. Camping outside a wall. I'd rather be out here kicking ass then stuck in some dumbass government tent getting blood tests every day. Even if you still keep up with that last thing."  
  
"...Yeah, you're right," Entre agreed softly. "But I... _worry._ What if they figure the cure out over there, and..." He exhaled a stiff breath. "...I don't know. I can't - _let_ this be a fuck up. It wouldn't just be a fuck up - I have to make it all... worth something." He pressed the back of his hand to his eyes, cheeks heating up as he felt tears spiking at his eyes again.  
_Don't cry in front of Swag - come on..._  
"So far all I've done is - is let people _die._ A-And I'm not going to be fast enough..." That idea pressed forcefully back into focus. _Rocky is dying. Ted is dying. They're dying because of you._  
"And I-" All he could remember was Bitter. All he could remember was being stared in the face by a similar choice. _Pick for me._ How was Entre supposed to make a choice like that? _Come on, you can finish the cure on time, can't you?_ And all he could do was shake his head.  
And walk him outside, and hold a gun to his head. Hands shaking, shaking, shaking too quickly to get a proper aim.  
It felt like a universal time loop. Someone else losing their life to his illness. Someone else withering away into a monster before his eyes - and he could do nothing but wait for them to die.  
Entre's eyes squeezed shut, catching his breath beginning to speed up. Again - he was suddenly sinking into a state of panic all over again, all because he was sad, pathetic, and couldn't do a thing.  
_I'm going to have to kill Rocky.  
I'm going to have to kill Rocky.  
_ Before he could think properly, Entre shoved his face into Swag's shoulder. "...Sorry," he breathed out.  
  
"Come on, don't be like that," Swag stated, but his voice seemed oddly hesitant now.  
Maybe Entre had scratched the surface of a recent wound.  
...Or maybe he wasn't sure how to handle him.  
"Listen, shit's fucked, but if you give up already, we don't get shit. Sometimes - sometimes..." Swag's jaw clenched tight.  
  
Entre hiccuped softly, pressing his gloved hands to his face, sitting up suddenly. "I'm sorry," he apologized profusely. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry that I couldn't - f-fix him. Or - fix anything-!" He felt his lips trembling, a soft whimper tumbling off the rim of his mouth. "I'm... _tired_ of being a fuck-up at everything! I'm tired of being too late and being t-too fucking incompetent to fix anything! I'm just - disappointing everyone - a-and we're losing everything because of me!"  
  
Swag took a firm hold of Entre's shoulders. "Dude. Calm down. Come on, breathe."  
  
Entre shook his head rapidly, pressing a hand to the back of his mouth as he managed a soft outcry. "I - mmm..." His breaths felt hollow, his arms beginning to tremble softly. He wanted to say it. He wanted to _say_ it aloud because the longer he didn't, the longer it stuck in his throat and kept him from breathing.  
_Rocky! Rocky! Rocky!_  
  
"Hey-!" Swag tried, before loosening his grip and sliding his hands down to Entre's shoulders. " _Hey,"_ more direct, but calmer. "Entre. Breathe. Come on. Like with your ear, remember how to breathe."  
  
...Counting - counting worked. _One, two, three, four-  
  
_Swag sat on his knees, moving his hands up to Entre's face and cupping it. "Up here. Look at me."  
  
And Entre did look up, staring at the features of Swag's face as he managed to slow the quickness of his escaping lungs. "...Sorry," he exhaled. "...I'm - sorry."  
_I should be the one comforting you._ How did Entre always end up in this position?  
  
"Listen, nerd," Swag addressed, voice direct. "...Sure, stuff's rough. Stuff's really, _really_ shitty right now. But you n' Rocky - and Ted, too. You three are the _toughest motherfuckers_ there are. Especially you." He moved his stance, gently guiding Entre into his arms and holding him closer. "Alright? Odds are against us, sure, but you're the only asshole crazy enough to keep _going._ You probably don't wanna hear about all your - uh... fuck-ups right now, do you?"  
  
...Entre shook his head, resting his head against Swag's chest again.  
Something about listening to the rhythm of his heart was soothing. _He's not going anywhere.  
He's going to be here no matter what happens.  
  
_"Alright. Well - I can just bust your ass about that later," Swag joked, pausing. "Listen. I wouldn't be like this with you if I - thought you were an idiot. You're - well. We're kinda on the same level of that whole 'fuck-up' thing. Not that that's - uh..." He tried another approach. "We wouldn't have gone on this trip with you if we didn't _think_ you could do it. And we're all still here with you - Rocky, Ted, n' I - 'cause we think you can still do it. And you know you can, too. Or else you wouldn't have decided to go through with it. Right?"  
  
"...Right," Entre admitted.  
  
"Right." Swag paused. "And you're _trying._ You're _trying_ so damned hard, and that's all I'm asking for. Alright?"  
He leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to Entre's temple.  
  
Entre's cheeks discolored a soft pink. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Alright."  
Entre pressed his remaining ear closer against Swag's chest, attempting to mirror his partner's breaths with his own.  
  
"You made me promise not to give up, and I'm about to hold you to the same promise. Got it?" Swag cocked a brow.  
  
"...Got it," Entre repeated.  
  
"And if shit happens, it happens. You gotta stop taking every death that happens these days personally. Flu's out of your control. If you make every death your responsibility, then - no shit, you're gonna feel awful. What's done is done, and you're working on fixing it. If - uh..." Swag shook his head. "...If something goes wrong, then it's just as much everyone's fault as yours. Alright?"  
  
"...Okay," Entre sat up, giving a dreary look of gratitude. "...Sorry, again."  
  
"For what. Bein' a crybaby?" Swag shrugged one shoulder. "...Don't be. Shit happens to the best of us. So what if you cry a little. I won't tell anyone. S' just between us two."  
  
Entre sniffled, nodding quietly. "Thanks. Uh..." He glanced up, watching Swag's face as it glanced back down at him. "How about you? I... want to know how you feel." He inched up, resting his head on Swag's shoulder again as he tentatively drew a hand down the other's shirt. "... _Please_. Not fair if I'm the only one who gets to let out how I've been feeling."  
  
"..." Swag's eyes closed, and he sighed. "...Fucking terrible."  
  
Entre nodded understandingly. "...Did you think about what I said at all?"  
  
"...Yeah. Still feels like my fucking fault," he admitted bitterly. "Not really accidental that you beat a guy to death with a rock."  
  
"...Yeah," Entre mumbled, swallowing hard. "...But sometimes you kind of - lose... control. I know I didn't really realize Bitter was dead until - uh, until Dave stepped in..."  
  
"..." Swag's eyes closed. "...Do you think it was the right thing?"  
  
"..." Entre hesitated. "Well," he contemplated. "I know One-ler was hurting. A lot. And I know he's been going around like that for a while. I guess I can't really say, but if it was his time, there wasn't really anything else to do except... let him die as human as he could."  
Entre half expected Swag to grow upset with him, but he didn't.  
  
Swag nodded instead, leaning back against the pillow. "...Alright, now. That was a long enough break. Get your mask back on."  
  
Entre blushed softly. "Oh, right." He sat up to fasten the thing back on, glancing back once to check on Swag.  
  
But Swag was only looking at Entre.  
  
The air around them felt strangely light. An invisible tension had been released.  
And, Entre hoped, maybe it might stay that way.  
  
"Tomorrow," Entre summarized softly. "...We're gonna head out. And once we set up camp, that's almost back at the lab - and, well. Around my old greenhouse."  
  
"Almost there, huh," mused Swag, a small smile crossing his face. "And look at that. Easy shit, we'll be there in no time."  
  
A light little smile decorated Entre's face, a hand resting tentatively on his cheek as he lay back down. "Heh, yeah. That's right."  
  
"Might just be worth trekkin' up this whole way with _you,_ " Swag teased.  
  
"Mmm, may be," Entre chimed, turning on his side to face Swag. "Might be worth all those stupid concerts."  
  
"Boo... killjoy," Swag jested. "You're just jealous of my sexy ass voice."  
  
"You wish."  
  
"C'mon. _You_ certainly couldn't resist it that night you got drunk." Swag cocked a brow at him, smirking softly.  
  
"Had to get me drunk just to make me like it, huh," Entre winked. "Desperate?"  
  
"Sassy! The fuck that coming from?" Swag chuckled. "Here, loser. Get more rest, it'll help the fever."  
  
"...Ah, I can try," Entre supposed, coughing softly. "...Hard to fall asleep."  
  
"Psh. I'm tired of you staying up all night watching me sleep," Swag commented. "Here, turn over."  
  
"Uh... okay," Entre paused, before slowly turning to face away from Swag. "That?"  
  
"...Yeah, that." Swag scooted over, aligning himself against his partner and resting an arm around his chest, pressing a kiss to the back of Entre's head. "Goodnight."  
  
...Entre could hardly contain a blush.  
" _Goodnight,_ " he mumbled softly, despite the afternoon glow shining in through their blinds.  
He closed his eyes and didn't expect sleep.  
  
...But sometimes closeness was enough to feel safe.  
Entre's eyes closed, and the doorways of his mind swung open, swallowing him into a deep, dark hole filled with troubling dreams.  
  
...It was the best he'd slept in months.


	15. Rats Died

The next morning, the clouds had vacated the sky.  
And, wordlessly, everyone had started to pack their things.  
  
Entre slung his backpack over one shoulder, leaning on his crutches as he monitored Swag's packing of his lab equipment.  
  
Swag glanced up from his kneeling position, zipping the duffel bag shut before slinging it over one of his shoulders. "What? You ready to go?"  
  
"Should be," Entre said, shifting his weight briefly as he stole a glance down at his bandaged ankle.  
  
"Good." Swag stood, passing Entre, and giving the other a brief pat on the shoulder as he moved for the door. "Alright, c'mon."  
  
And so Entre guided himself outside, allowing Swag to help him down the stairs.  
  
Waiting in the jeep, Ted and Rocky glanced up at the approaching duo.  
  
Ted smiled faintly, giving an enthusiastic wave.  
  
Rocky leaned back in his seat, giving the other two a friendly wink. "Rise n' shine, you two."  
  
"Good morning - uh," Entre greeted politely, helping himself slowly to the car door, but hesitating as he glanced at Rocky. "...How's everyone doing?" He was asking one person in particular.  
  
Rocky blinked a few times, his hooded gaze not managing to connect with Entre's. "Just fine. How about you? Cough any better?"  
  
"Nah," Swag answered from behind the entrepreneur, rounding the car in order to sit himself into the front seat. "He's got a fever. Thought we might stop at the shopping center to see if we can get prom queen here some popsicles - assuming I can find a place with a working fridge. Everyone like that?"  
  
Ted's eyes lit up in the back seat. "Oh-! Popsicles? Uh - for Mister Entre?"  
  
"Well, for everyone, I think," Entre briefly turned his backwards hat into a front-facing position, turning in his seat to address the kid. "Not like I can eat everything in the box..."  
  
"Yeah. Sharing is caring, or whatever." Swag revved up the engine. "Alright, assholes, seatbelts on, or I'll launch 'ya out of the jeep."  
  
No one seemed to have reason to argue with the threat.  
  
The road was long, but the radio was turned _on_ this time.  
To Entre's surprise, though, Rocky still wasn't singing. The entrepreneur stole glances over his shoulder every now and then in order to check on the other, only to find him nodding his head to the rhythm.  
_...Maybe he's tired._ Entre didn't want to think about the likelihood of Rocky having forgotten the music the radio provided.  
  
In the meantime, Entre shifted through his notes, a tired state settling over him as his eyes drew drearily over the pages. _God._ It didn't feel like he was getting anywhere at all.  
  
The jeep finally jerked to a stop, prompting Entre to lift his head.  
  
Swag was already getting out of the car, lifting his sunglasses to his head as he shaded his eyes with his hand, giving a quiet scan of the area. "Yeah - there's a Rite Aid over there. If they got anything, I'll bring it back. No one go anywhere." He produced a cigarette from his pocket, pressing the item between his lips as he fumbled for his lighter.  
  
Entre's mouth opened - then he hesitated. " _Hey,_ Swag," he beckoned discretely, causing the other to glance up.  
  
Swag blinked, before rounding the car to Entre's side. "What is it?"  
  
Entre paused, before lifting a hand to obscure the section of his mask that hid his mouth. _'Secret,'_ he implied.  
  
Swag cleared his throat, leaning down to get a better listen.   
  
Entre strained to lean in, whispering faintly. _"Sedatives._ I want to be armed with sedatives. Can you...?" _Get them please?_ He didn't finish.  
  
...Swag stood back up to his full height, taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a brief haze out of his mouth. He gave Entre a brief, almost distrustful look over. Then, eyes narrowed, he glanced to the two in the backseat.  
"...Sure I can. Don't miss me too much," Swag dismissed, turning on his heel and stalking off for the row of buildings.  
  
And, with a soft sigh, he sat back down. Entre kept his eyes on his lap, nervous to glance back.  
...He'd forgotten that fully-fledged infected had incredible hearing. _...Rocky and Ted must have heard me. They must be upset..._ He cleared his throat, but couldn't look back.  
  
That's when he felt someone tapping at his shoulder.  
Sucking in a breath, Entre glanced backward. "Huh? What is it?"  
  
It was only Ted, holding out another half-folded piece of paper. "I drew you something else, Mr. Entre...!"  
  
"...Oh - you did?" Entre smiled faintly, settling back down in his seat as he scanned the drawing over.  
A crude little drawing of Entre, complete with the fluffy coat. Scrawled across the top: _'Get Well Soon!!'_ It wasn't the first of its kind, but it summoned a smile to the entrepreneur's face all the same.   
It didn't seem like either had heard. Or, if they had. Maybe neither were upset.  
"...Ah, thank you, Ted. It's pretty good." He shifted around to glance at the both of them, only to find Rocky looking elsewhere. Entre paused. "...Hey, uh..."  
  
"...!" Rocky glanced back up. "Ah, sorry. Just thinking... do you both find if I visit one of these stores? I'll be quick. Just have to pick something up."  
  
_Swag told us to stay in the jeep..._ Entre had to admit he felt a little _defenseless_ for lack of a better word being left only with Ted. Ted was just a child, and Entre was injured and feverish. "...Sure, I mean, I won't stop you," he allowed hesitantly.  
  
Rocky's jaw clenched, before nodding briefly. "...Yeah. Cool, thank you." He winked briefly, giving an assuring finger gun before slipping out of the jeep door. "Be right back. Sit tight, both of 'ya." He waved briefly over his shoulder.  
  
Entre waved back, pausing as he turned his face back to Ted.  
...He recognized a similar look of nervousness dappling the other's face.  
"...Hey, uh... how about we turn on the radio, or something?"  


  


* * *

  


Rocky packaged the small cardboard box into a plastic bag, hesitating before folding the item over a few times. _That should be good._ Clearing his throat, the rockstar stuffed the small box away inside his jacket.  
Turning, he rested a hand on the door of the foreboding store, a soft little jingle echoing from the bell upon the door. Had anyone seen him?  
God, he really hoped not.

Stealing away outside again, he tucked his thumbs around his belt-loops, casting his eyes down to the ground in order to evade the glare of the harsh sun.  
The longer he walked, the more _worn down_ he felt. A strange hunger had started gnawing at him since that morning - a hunger that a can of soup hadn't been able to satisfy.  
Itch, itch, itch... he'd started to pick at a scab around his nose, wandering drearily through the ghost town. _Where's the jeep again?_ Rocky stopped as he turned, then turned back. A little circle.  
_Oh... right._ Near the sign - it was almost in view now. He started off towards it.  
With each step, he felt his mind _sinking_ quietly. Sinking into a place of desire. That craving - that yearning to eat. He could imagine it now.  
Something nostalgic. He hadn't had a burger in such a long time, saddled instead with foul, aged soup and canned corn. A burger, sure, but an even more distant memory now was the taste of _steak.  
_Rare steak. Steak so raw that the cut of a fork or a knife drew blood that mixed with the gravy. Blood that settled like an off-color soup at the bottom of the dish, salty and flavorful.  
  
Rocky pushed open a door.

Salt - salt that added a taste to the meat. He remembered that.  
...But even better than the cooked steak was the _look_ of something pure and raw. The discolor of what had once been flesh, an uncanny pink hue that drew the eye.  
He'd always wanted to try _raw flesh._ He suddenly realized he'd always wanted to devour something _raw._ He wanted it more than anything.  
  
Teeth - biting down.  
Into something malleable and soft.

Flesh that sprayed that same spurt of carmine blood when the teeth _sunk home._ Blood that could splatter his face like warpaint as more of the ichor dribbled down his chin. Warm, salty ooze violating his tongue, flowing like an unsteady waterfall down his chin, staining his hands as his fingernails _dug deeper._  
The flesh so stringy and taunt that you had to fight to separate it from the body of the animal. The kind that clung to muscle, and made the mouth work out the taste the longer it occupied the soup of blood and saliva inside of his mouth.  
The fur that tickled the top of his lip as he became more and more famished with every bite.

And finally, the main course. The stringy organs that dangled down, getting caught between his teeth as he tore into the rat in his hands, eating mindlessly.  
His hunger came in, faded, came back, faded again. A steady rise and fall as he gorged the poor thing, stopping only as the sudden _snap_ of its rib between his teeth broke the silence.

...Rocky was frozen, returning to his senses as a few pieces of flesh slipped from his mouth. A half-eaten animal still rested mangled in his eager palms, its blood _all over him.  
Wh - what am I-!? _What was he doing!?  
He choked, wiping his mouth feverishly with the back of his hand as a sick knot formed in his stomach. He felt _sick.  
_"F-Fuck," he mumbled, standing himself against a shelf, still wiping the blood from his face.  
The more he wiped, the worse the stain became in his imagined mind.  
_"I'm - sorry,"_ he found himself stuttering down the rat's carcass at his feet. A careless goodbye, a careless apology, one that summoned itself from his throat. "Ah - uh..." He felt wobbly. Steadying himself on a shelf, Rocky got a look at his surroundings.

Shelves, hardware - just a corner store. And there, in the back--

Rocky started for the bathroom, pushing open the door and feverishly stripping paper towels from the dispenser. Then, turning to face the mirror without managing to look at it, he scrubbed the blood from his chin, tears spiking his eyes.  
That rat - he didn't know why he felt such _sorrow_ for it, but a crushing guilt had already caused his shoulders to shudder. He shouldn't have cared so much, but he could hardly _help_ it. _God, I'm sorry..._  
Scrub, scrub, scub, scub... he wiped down his face, finally managing to breath out a sigh as the blood disappeared from his face. Coughing out an ugly sound, Rocky's yellow eyes finally raised to the mirror, expecting to be met with a familiar ghost of his future.  
...But no.  
There in the mirror - was just Rocky.  
His skin broken out with golden pockets of pus, his eyes a sickly shade of yellow, flesh between his teeth, blood staining his lips.  
  
Exactly as he was.  
Hauntingly inhuman in all the worst ways.

...He pressed a hand to his lapel, squeezing the box through his jacket.  
_Hold on tight.  
Just - hold on tight. We're almost there._

* * *

  


Rocky returned moments before Swag, ducking quietly back into the back seat, rubbing tiredly at his temple. "Hey, dudes. Sorry for the wait," he managed, glancing up to give the others an apologetic smile.

Entre gave him a brief look over.  
...He couldn't tell what the other had gone to fetch. He only noted a few new dark stains on the rockstar's clothes. The entrepreneur sucked in a careful breath.  
"...You good?" He checked in.

"Yeah. I'm good," Rocky exhaled, seeming a little shaken as he leaned back. "Swag back yet?"

Entre paused, glancing back to the front of the jeep just as Swag came into view. "Oh - yeah, there he is." Entre sat up in his seat, smiling faintly as he waved at his partner.

Swag, a cigarette still between his teeth, took a drag, lifting a hand to return the curt gesture.  
As he reached the side of the car, Swag took a small cardboard box, pressing it carefully into Entre's lap and patting his shoulder knowingly.

...Entre held his breath, quietly prying open the lid of the box.  
There inside, packaged very neatly, was a line of capped syringes.  
\--He closed the lid quickly. He could thank Swag later.

"Alright, pussies," Swag hopped into the front seat, tearing open a colorful cardboard box. "This is a rare find. We got until these babies melt to eat 'em. Who wants a popsicle?" He lifted a popsicle from the box, stripping off the wrapper and popping the end into his mouth.

"Oh! Could I?" Ted sat up, peering inside. "The red ones are best..."

Rocky also leaned in, giving a faint smile as he surveyed the options inside the box.

Entre plucked the one nearest to him, squinting briefly to determine the color underneath the wrapping. _Grape?_ Sure. As long as it helped with the fever.

For once, it felt like he could breathe. Taking his mask down from his face, he sucked quietly at the end. The cold was a relief to his fever.

"Hey, what do you say we cheers?" Rocky winked quietly, closing one eye as he pointed his popsicle playfully in Swag's direction.

"Sure. Why the hell not. S' kinda gay if you ask me, though," Swag smirked, tapping his popsicle politely against the side of Swag's.

"Heh, I mean, I was trying _not to make jokes_ with _the kid_ _right there_ ," Rocky suggested indirectly.

"Oh, trust me. I'm thinkin' of it too." Swag rested a hand on the wheel, giving Entre a side glance. "...Hey. How deep can it go?"

"..." Entre's eyes narrowed with displeasure, abruptly retracting the popsicle from his mouth. "...Did you... _want_ me to eat this?" He asked bluntly.

"Aw, come on, lighten up," Swag flicked is cigarette to the ground, grinning to himself as he started up the car again. "Just a question."

"Well," Entre remarked. "At least it's bigger than-" He cut himself off, catching a view of Ted in the rearview mirror. His cheeks flushed awkwardly. "...Ahem. Right, where's the map again?"  


* * *

  


Another night, another camp. The sleeping arrangements were the same as ever: Swag and Entre in one tent, Rocky and Ted sharing the other.  
This time, sitting on a rock and staring up at the afternoon sky... things felt so unusually _close._

A few more days until they arrived back at the ruins of his old factory. Driving back in time.

Looking out the window and seeing his surroundings beginning to seem more familiar; places he'd taken refuse before, areas he's promoted the thneed, back in the boom of his business. Chasing distant memories.  
Bitter reminders of dreams that had torn him to shreds.

And here, under the stars - the stars that had managed to shine through the red-colored clouds cascading through the sky.

_So close._ His eyes closed as he felt a cold breeze fluttering the air.  
So close to _really_ beginning their investigation.

Swallowing hard, he glanced down at his gloved hands.

People were counting on him. People were _always_ counting on him.  
But this - it was _do or don't._

...Staring at his hands, he flinched as they began to tremble.  
With a soft huff, Entre shoved them away again.

_Close, soon._ But what was close and soon? Arrival?  
Ah, Entre knew better than anyone.

_There's still so much left to do._

...And there were footsteps behind him, but Entre didn't move.

"Entre," Rocky's voice greeted, a kind smile stretching across his face as he knelt down beside the entrepreneur. "You good? Sitting out here by yourself..."

"Oh, yeah, just thinking." Entre promised, pausing as he chewed on his lip. "Since we're going to be arriving soon. Uh... anyway. You been alright, man?"

"...Me?" Rocky smiled, winking briefly. "Yeah. Well, sorta. Nothing for you to worry about."

"...Are you _sure?"_ Entre asked more quietly, turning in his seat to face the other completely. "...Listen, if you're - uh... having a hard time... you don't have to keep it to yourself..."

"..." Rocky smiled quietly, shaking his head. "...Nah. Thanks, though. I'm actually because... I wanted to talk to you about something."

"...Something...?" Entre paled, his eyes widening suddenly.

"Woah, woah, hey, dude. Not _that,"_ he reassured gently, rising to his feet and offering out a hand to Entre.  
"...I'm here to talk about _you_." He nodded reassuringly. "Mind takin' a walk with me?"


	16. Goodnite, Dr. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c/w for heavy + suicidal themes

Rocky kept his thumbs hooked around his belt loops, his gait slowed in order to allow Entre to keep pace.  
  
Entre cleared his throat, lifting his head from the ground to present a polite smile. "Uh, alright. We're out of camp now. Did you need something?"  
  
Rocky couldn't help but notice the other had kept a short distance between them - which made sense. Not only was the rockstar walking a few feet from the safety of their encampment, but he _had_ attacked the other only the night before. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms.  
In truth, he'd just needed privacy.  
"Well, first off, how've you been? Resting well? That stuff...?" He tilted his head slightly. He hadn't wanted to say it, but Entre looked about as awful as Rocky felt.  
  
"...Huh? Oh, well. Slept last night. Managed not to have any nightmares, heh." Entre admitted.  
  
Nightmares... right. Rocky nodded. "Alright, onto the mushy stuff." Rocky lifted his hands, bringing his goggles down over his eyes. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't being too hard on yourself, that's all."  
  
"Too hard... oh, well." Entre tilted his head back and forth. "I'm - managing, I think. Just hoping I'm able to make some progress soon."  
  
Rocky nodded slowly, before patting Entre neatly on the shoulder. "Alright. S' good. You pull your own weight. Oh, and also. Thought I'd mention again... I hope you aren't putting too much on your plate. With the 'making up for your actions,' anyway." He managed a soft smile. "No one here still holds that stuff against you, you know."  
  
"...Oh, uh... that's nice." Entre winced at the mention, but seemed to manage a soft smile of his own at the comment. "Well, that's good... still doesn't make it better, I guess."  
  
"Sure it does," Rocky encouraged softly. "You didn't intend any of this, and you're trying harder than any of us to put an end to it. Maybe give yourself a bit of credit, dude. Rock on. You're doin' great." He rested his hands on his hips.  
  
"...Thanks. Uh, is there a reason you're telling me all this?" Entre lifted an eyebrow apologetically. "Not that I don't appreciate it..."  
  
"...Nah. Just looking forward to when you finally make it big." Rocky cleared his throat, moving his goggles back up, just to occupy his thoughts. Fidgeting to keep his mind busy. "Thought I might say something kind of overdue, actually." He took a deep breath. "...I'm sorry about Bitter."  
  
"...Bitter," Entre uttered the name. "...Oh, it's - fine now..."  
  
"...I dunno if it is," he admitted softly. "And even so, I'm sorry I didn't help you out. Not sure I saw anyone doing it, but I was off rocking in my own world, and I should have said something. Even if you and Swag weren't buddy-buddy at the time."  
  
"..." A blush crossed Entre's cheeks. "I, well... thank you. It's wasn't your job or anything, you know..."  
  
"...Well. Didn't mean it was alright of me to let you take that on alone." Rocky paused, thinking for a minute. "Also wanted to say that I think you've been leading us all pretty well so far. I know One-ler was..." He trailed off, heart twisting in grief. "A shock. But... that wasn't your fault either. You've been keeping us all in line, and you're not half bad at it. Keep it up, 'ya know...?"  
  
Entre's chest puffed up slightly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "I, uh, alright, sure... if you think so then - thanks..." He lifted a hand from his crutch to rub the back of his neck. "I, well. Means a lot, considering how much I messed up last time."  
  
"...Hey. That's the past. Alright?" Rocky assured. "Lots of cruddy stuff happened in your past. This is about your future." He paused. "...Well. Tired of being mushy. Just saying you have a lot to be proud of. You just have to hang in there, alright? Tough road ahead, but I know you can do it. Got it?"  
  
"...Ah, thanks... I'll do the best I can," Entre promised.  
  
"Good. All you gotta do." Rocky flashed a brief 'rock on' symbol before slipping his thumbs back into his belt loops. "...Gotta run somewhere, but keep your head up, man. And go get some fuckin' rest. You deserve it."  
  
And, waiting briefly for the exchanged goodbye, Rocky turned heel, strolling briefly back over to the jeep and fishing for the Hello Kitty backpack buried under the back seats.  
Then, slinging the object over one shoulder, he started for Swag's tent.  
Hesitating for a moment, Rocky introduced his entry. "Hey, man. It's Rocky. Mind if I borrow you for something?"  
  
...After the shuffling of footsteps on the interior of the tent, the entryway unzipped, and Swag poked his head out. "'Sup, Poprocks?"  
  
Another friendly smile crested Rocky's face. "...You look like you could use some fun. Thought of something you might like."  
_And need._  
  


* * *

The Hello Kitty backpack lay open, each opening crammed with a mix of fun objects the duo had managed to collect. Then, lining the top, were the fireworks.

Rocky popped the cap off a beer bottle, stepping backward to the jeep slowly, parked between the other abandoned buildings they'd visited. What was once a small town, now emptied.  
_When the cat's away..._ the mice would play.  
  
"I have something to say," Rocky began, giving a quick glance left and right, just to ensure their surroundings were clear. "For One-ler anyway. He was... well. A friend. A friend to a lot of people. And he was real strong, too. Lived it up the best he could despite the flu, which is a _bitch_ to deal with, by the way." He gave a melancholy smile, resting an elbow on the hood of the car. "...And we all miss him. Glad I got to know him." He dusted off his leather coat, giving a quick glance over to Swag.  
"...You got anything to say, too?"

"...Yeah, I do," Swag said after a moment, dislodging the cap of his own beer bottle and giving the backpack a sideways glance. "...One-ler, uh..." He cleared his throat, expression hardening. "...Sorry. Thanks for being there, Princess."

Rocky noticed Swag shuffling his feet, lost for the right words. "...I'm sure he appreciates it," Rocky promised. Then, lifting his bottle. "As soon as you're ready..."

"Yeah, hold on," Swag paused. "...Shit. Hope you're getting pussy in hell, man," he added to the shrine. "Like, a shit ton." He seemed troubled, but his expressions were harder to read under his sunglasses. "...I guess I'll see 'ya down there at some point. We can have a fucking reunion. Heh..." He smiled faintly.  
"...Thanks for bein' a pal. And, uh..."  
Swag shook his head, taking a drag from his cigarette before giving Rocky a backwards glance. "Alright, let's pour one out."

"Hell yeah," Rocky chimed politely, striding over in tandem with the other.

For a moment, they both stood idly, staring down at the hello kitty backpack, still playing the happy-go-lucky melody of Space Jam over their small, makeshift funeral procession.

"Three?" Rocky raised his bottle.

"Two," Swag confirmed.

And together: "One."

Either survivor overturned their bottles, booze flowing freely onto the asphalt in front of them. The beer pooled, forming an awkward soggy mess in front of the shrine.

"...Alright, time to light 'em up?" Swag glanced up.

"Think so! If you're, uh... ready." Rocky glanced down, smiling faintly.  
_...Goodbye, One-ler._ His smile faltered.  
It stung. It really, really stung.

"...Yeah. Alright, once it goes off, get your ass in the jeep, and we're getting the fuck out of here." A bite of humor found Swag's tone, a more prominent smirk finding his face.   
He reached into his pocket, pulling a match from a small box, and igniting it with the single flick of his wrist.  
"...See 'ya, Princess." Swag knelt, holding out the match with two fingers and igniting the joined fuses of the fireworks.

The second a faint hissing sound began to penetrate the air, Swag jerked up the match, blowing it out and springing to his feet. "Alright, move your ass."

Rocky didn't need to be told twice. Moving quickly to the jeep, he pulled open the door, sliding into the passenger's side.

Swag stuck his cigarette between his teeth, hopping into the front seat and starting the jeep.

"How many seconds on those fuckers?" Swag asked, turning the wheel and beginning to pull away from the curb.

_'Everybody get up, it's time to slam now...'_ the backpack echoed faintly from a distance.

"Only a few." Rocky glanced over his shoulder, watching as they pulled away from their shrine.

_'We got the real jam goin down, welcome to the Space--'_ And the funeral exploded suddenly into showers of glittering sparks.

Rocky's eyes widened, elbowing Swag politely as a brief, joyous grin crossed his face. "Check that shit out."

Swag glanced over his shoulder, lifting a hand to move his sunglasses to his head. "...Ha! Haha! Hey, fuck."

With a few whistles and hisses, the fireworks continued to fire off.  
Nothing large or ambitious, a few sparklers, a few small, colorful sparks.

But it felt like enough.

Turning back to face the front, Rocky exhaled a soft sigh. "...Hey." He lifted his head. "...Missed that smile. Glad we could do that."

Swag smirked, huffing out a pompous laugh. "Alright, homo. Don't _you_ get gay on me, too. Entre's enough of a handful." His grip tightened on the wheel at the mention of his partner's name.

"...Seems like good company. Glad you guys got each other." Rocky leaned back in his seat, finding his head angled up for the sky. He watched the auburn clouds rolling by overhead, a nostalgic look shining in his eye.  
"...Hey, Swag." He coughed softly, smiling hesitantly. "...I'm _glad_ you're alive."

"..." Swag didn't respond at first, long enough to make Rocky look over.

"...God," Swag laughed. "You're even fucking _worse_ than Entre."  
He couldn't make eye contact.

_That's alright._ Rocky had meant it.  
And he hoped he'd remember it.

  


* * *

  


And somehow the last one was the hardest.  
Ted was just a child. How do you say _goodbye_ to the person you know you'll hurt the most?

Rocky strummed his guitar briefly. " _Your body... starts to shiver,"_ he mumbled ominously, lifting his head, to make sure Ted in his sleeping bag was still following along.  
  
He was.  
  
Turning the lamp on the floor slightly, to provide a more ominous mood lighting, Rocky strummed the guitar again. " _And though you, uh..."_ Rocky fumbled momentarily. _Shit. What's the next verse?_ He shook his head.  
_Ah..._  
"...Hey. You sure you want a scary bedtime story tonight?" Rocky offered, cutting off the Thriller rendition somewhat abruptly. "I can think of a nicer one if you want."

Ted blinked a few times, turning onto his back. "...Oh, sure! I think I'd like to hear a new one, if you have one..."

Rocky's smile broke, his eyes darting away.  
And he almost said it - _I'm sorry that I'm going away.  
_"Sure, alright." He strummed the guitar. _I'm sorry that I can't say goodbye._  
 _It would only hurt you more._ He felt his fingers trembling.  
"There was once a once-ler... not too unlike you or me... and he always wanted to be a _rockstar._ " Wearing a new smile, Rocky winked. "So one day he left his mom, and his pops, and his two brothers and he set out into the world to play his songs. And, well. The industry's a pretty rough place. But he kept writing his songs... and he just kept at it. Until one day... he got the right gig."  
His eyes squeezed shut, a soft choking sound threatening to break through his lips.

"...So then," he added, more softly. "He started playing his songs for more n' more people. They called him _the rockstar once-ler..._ that's Rocky for short." He cleared his throat, strumming a few discordant notes.

"...Are you okay, Rocky?" Ted asked tentatively.

"Just fine, Lil' Freddy. Don't worry." He readjusted his sitting position, clearing his throat. "Now... this really unfortunate thing happened - where everyone started getting sick. But along the way... he happened to meet a little rockstar - and his name was Ted Wiggins. But all the cool guys called him Lil' Freddy." Rocky lifted his guitar pick, giving it a silent glance.  
A gift from Ted - engraved with the word. _'Freddy.'_  
"And Freddy... just happened to be the rockstar's number one fan. And Rocky happened to be _his_ number one fan, too." He glanced up, smiling faintly. "'Cause. He's a real cool kid. And a real strong kid. One that knows how to rock n' roll, if you catch my drift."  
He lifted the axe guitar from over his shoulder, looking it over. The strings, the sharpened, polished metal.  
"...Now, Freddy was sick - well. Sick already, but a little sicker than that now." Rocky glanced up, frowning slightly.  
_Are you going to be okay without me?_  
Swag and Entre could take care of each other. Would they take care of Ted?  
He suddenly wanted so, so desperately to stay.  
_They need me._ Ted was in pain, coughing up blood. Entre needed support - _Swag_ couldn't stand another loss.  
Suddenly _Rocky_ was the one assuming too much responsibility.  
"...But he was a tough kid, and he's been managing to pull through this far." Rocky glanced up. "...And someday, he's gonna get all better, and he's gonna kick some serious butt in the music industry. Especially with..."  
He smiled, exhaling a soft breath as he offered over his instrument. Shining in the dark, majestic as they came. His very own axe-guitar.  
" _This._ This is Susie. I think you'll take good care of her."

Ted gasped, sitting up. "You... want me to have this? Er - Susie...?" He reached out a hand, then hesitated. "...Are you sure...?"

"Positive. I've had my run as a rockstar. Once this whole thing lets up, the people are gonna need someone else to rock n' roll for 'em. I can't think of anyone better, Freddy." Rocky bit his tongue.

"...Oh, I mean... if you're sure," Ted exhaled, carefully taking the axe-guitar into his hands and giving the strings an experimental strum.

Rocky slipped the guitar pock into his pocket, patting it softly as he untied his bandana from his neck. "... _You like her?_ " His voice cracked before he could manage to bite it back.

"Of course-! I - isn't this yours, though...? I can't just take it," Ted insisted, attempting to hand it back.

Rocky, didn't look as he reached out a hand, patting the guitar gently. "Nah. I think it's about time to let her go. I can give you the night to think about it, alright?"

"..." Ted took the guitar back, nodding. "Alright...! Thank you, Rocky! Thank you so, so much..."

"Yeah, any time." He turned the lantern out, a breath of relief escaping him. "...'Night, lil' dude. Rest well."

He ignored a final chance to confess his intentions.  
_I'm going to die._ His eyes squeezed shut as he lay his head down on the ground. Small tears slipped from his closed lids.   
Was it cruel?  
To become like a brother to someone, only to rip yourself away without warning?

He say there in silence, pressing soft sounds of misery into the back of his hand as he cried, watching Ted silently. Waiting.  
Waiting. Waiting...

...  
And finally, the stillness told no lies.

Rocky managed to rise to his feet, opening the tent and slipping outside.

The cool night air brushed against his face. He could see the faint glow of the boils on his body now.  
Reaching a hand into his coat, he felt through the lapel, producing the small box from before.  
Unraveling the plastic slowly, he held his breath.

Too many times. Plain and simple.  
He'd seen it too many times.  
The infection driving people to their breaking point.  
The inevitable choice. Forcing _someone else_ to make that choice was selfish.  
Bitter had forced Entre to play a hand he didn't have. It was a death that still clung to his actions, even if he didn't realize that. A main course to his feast of guilt. It had shattered him.  
And Swag - Swag had had to put down a friend - one that was so far gone, he couldn't stop himself from trying to tear apart someone he'd considered a brother.  
And Ted - Ted was just a kid.  
Rocky was long past due.

The moment he'd turned on Entre had been enough, the rest had been a waiting game.

He opened the box, a pistol waiting patiently inside, its bullets packaged alongside it.

To force someone else to take that gun and kill him - was selfish.  
Rocky wasn't going to be a coward. He wasn't going to lie in wait, hoping to push his luck living another day - waiting until the day he finally did something wrong enough to be put down.  
No one here was ready to kill him.  
Swag wouldn't - Ted wouldn't.  
Entre could, and that was about the last thing Rocky wanted.  
And that was about the last thing Entre needed.

_I'm not going to let him shatter himself again._

The greater good needed Rocky out of the equation - no feral monster, losing his humanity on the daily. No one to turn on the last one of them not to be infected. No one to drive a wedge between the three of them. No one to spark a debate about who did and didn't deserve to live.

And, in some fleeting comfort, Rocky was glad to do the deed himself. That was one way to stick it to the man.  
He could die a human by his own hand.

Lifting the weapon, Rocky let the box fall to the ground, loading the bullets into the gun's chambers, before giving it a final look over.

He would walk - far. The sound would be enough to draw undead to their location, and he couldn't risk his final stunt endangering those in camp.  
...His hand shook suddenly.  
Rocky hardly had room to be scared, but he could barely breathe.

Standing tall, facing the dark thicket of trees, Rocky lowered his sunglasses over his eyes, refastening his bandana around his neck.

_Breathe in...  
Breathe out._

Drawing the back of his hand across his eyes, the rockstar relieved himself of his lingering tears, forcing a bold, determined look upon his face.  
One last ride.  
One last thriller.  
One last _kaboom._

_Are you ready to go toe-to-toe with death itself?_  
He rested his hand at his side, staring ahead.  
_Are you ready to brush against your fate, and come through on the other side?_  
He started walking forward.  
_Are you ready to show the world what for? Are you ready to go down, guns blazing?  
..._Ahaha, now _that_ was an awful pun.

His trembling hand finally stilled as Rocky passed through the trees, and was swallowed by the darkness.

He hoped that it might be quick - painless. But not for him.  
For the people still alive.  
Maybe - maybe it was selfish to hope, but he hoped.  
He hoped that sometimes, they might think of him fondly.  
He hoped that sometimes, they might remember his final sentiments.  
He hoped that he'd done enough to lift their spirits.  
He hoped that he'd been good enough to all of them.  
He hoped they knew that he loved them.  
...He hoped that they could forgive him.  
_I'm sorry._

And finally, he hoped that when the light of five million firework stars burst before him, and his time on the world drew to a close, that he could hear the fleeting sounds of the crowd that had kept him on his feet so long.

That final sentiment that always made his eyes sting with tears, as he bowed out from his performance.

_Encore, encore!  
Encore, encore!_


	17. Your Shadow Lives On Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c/w suicidal themes

He was heavy.  
He was heavy, but Entre didn't falter as he ran, tears tearing away at his eyes as he stumbled forward, clinging to him tightly.  
His mangled form hung limply in his arms, bleeding a careless, ugly scarlet color into Entre's green gloves.  
  
_Swag._ His chest rose and fell, taking shallow faint breaths.  
  
Entre ran, nearly stumbling over himself as he burst through he undergrowth, lungs burning as he collapsed to his knees. Taking desperate gasps, his eyes panned up to the tall, imposing government wall that had once kept him shut outside.  
And there, guarding the perimeter, were a line of soldiers without faces, buried under their equipment.  
  
Entre sobbed openly, struggling for air as he rose unsteadily to his feet again. "M-Medic! He needs a medic, please!" He clung to Swag. "He's dying!"  
  
The entire line closed in on him, one imposing unit, drawing closer.  
  
Entre swallowed hard, beads of sweat streaking down his face. He hiccuped, holding Swag closer, protectively. "H-He's the only one left! Please, help him! He needs medical attention!"  
  
But as a line of hands reached out, some grabbed Entre's shoulders, and some grabbed Swag, wrestling them away from each other.  
  
"--Hey!" Entre cried out, thrashing as countless hands wrapped around his arms. He tried desperately to keep a hold on his partner, even as he was torn away from his grasp. "Wh - what are you doing!? He's alive!"  
  
"He's dead," one of them barked beside him.  
  
"Can't you see him? He's dead."  
  
"N-No, he isn't!" Entre's voice devolved into a hoarse sob as he was thrown roughly against the ground, arms twisted behind his back as cuffs of iron were wrapped hungrily around either wrist. "He's alive! Please!"  
  
"Not anymore," one of them discarded the body, Swag's form dropping lifelessly beside Entre, still pinned to the ground.  
  
He flinched, breath still caught in his throat. "...Swag?" He tried, to no avail. His voice swallowed itself. _Swag?  
  
_"He's dead, just like all of them are." One of them moved out of Entre's line of sight just enough to see beyond Swag's carcass.  
  
Stretched out into the bleak landscape, collected in various mounds... were _bodies.  
Bodies _with familiar faces. In pools of their own blood: Dave, 72, Audrey, Ted, Rocky, Beanpole--  
  
Entre tore his face away, choking up another hysterical sob.  
  
"You did it, you know. Open your eyes and look at it."  
  
Entre felt a booted foot grinding its heel into his spine, causing him to cry out in pain.  
  
"You killed them. It's your fault."  
  
"I-It's - my fault," he sobbed. "I-I did it. Nngh..."  
  
And the circle closed around him, each giving a thick-tongued laugh in mockery of his failures.  
  
And suddenly, the cuffs were gone.  
Entre was imprisoned. A small, square room. With a small, square window.  
One that filtered in hazy red light.  
The infected air sunk through his window. It smelled like death.  
  
...And Entre reached a hand to his side, out of instinct.  
And there, resting in the holster -- _my gun...?  
  
_...A devious smile climbed onto his face as Entre popped open the cylinder, grinning in famish at the six bullets rested comfortably inside the weapon.  
...Finally.  
Entre lifted the weapon without hesitating, opening his mouth and pressing the muzzle of the gun to the back of his throat.  
_Finally._ His hand trembled.  
What the world had surely been waiting for. Finally, a way to erase his countless, countless mistakes.  
  
Entre pulled the hammer back and --!!  
  
_Click._  
  
...Huh?  
  
_Click! Click!  
  
_Entre's eyes widened, continuing to tug the trigger.  
  
_Clickclickclickclick!  
  
_Desperately, desperately -- _please, please!_  
  
 ** _Clickclickclickclickclick!_  
  
**_Why can't I just fucking die!? _Faster, faster, faster, the barrel of the gun spinning in a dizzy circle.  
  
_**CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK!  
CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK--  
  
**_**BANG** _ **!  
  
**_Entre awoke with a gasp, eyes shooting open as he ran his hands into his hair. Pressing his forehead to his knees, the entrepreneur exhaled a long, shaky breath before rubbing at his sweaty temples.  
Now he could remember why he never slept.  
Stealing a glance to the left, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he found Swag exactly where he remembered him, asleep beside him.  
Quietly, Entre slipped his hand into his partner's, giving Swag's hand a tight squeeze.  
_He's okay._ Good.  
  
Exhaling a long breath, Entre glanced up again, pausing as he noticed a shadow across the surface of his tent. He blinked -- "Rocky? Uh, Ted?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, biting his tongue suddenly. _Shit._ He'd assumed it was one of them, but it could have easily been _something else_.  
  
Entre reached to the side, tugging on one of his shoes--  
  
"Entre...?" Ted's voice echoed from outside.  
  
The entrepreneur gave a relieved breath. "Yeah... hey. You uh - alright out there?"  
  
"..." Ted didn't respond at first. "...I... heard something..."  
  
Entre paused, continuing to pull his boot on carefully over his injured foot. "Like a gunshot?"  
  
"...Yeah," Ted nodded quickly. "...Could you come outside? I found something and... I'm worried about Rocky... he's missing."  
  
Entre stopped breathing, the pace of his heart escalating quickly. _...Rocky...? "_ Missing?"  
He reached for his crutches, sitting onto his knees. "Here, I'll wake up Swag."  
  
"Okay..." Ted said nervously.  
  
Entre leaned over slightly, squeezing Swag's shoulder.  
"Hey. Wake up," he said quietly, watching as Swag overturned in his sleep, mumbling under his breath.  
  
Swag opened one eye, grumbling softly. "What is it...?"  
  
"Ted. He needs me to help him look for something, so I'm going outside." Entre didn't have time to waste - a gunshot could draw zombies like moths to a light. "If you want to follow us..."  
  
"..." Swag nodded slowly. "You gonna wait for me?"  
  
"Don't think I should. I'll be safe, though. And I won't be too far ahead, okay?"  
  
"..." Swag hesitated. "...Okay. But if you get your dumb ass into trouble-"  
  
"I won't," Entre promised anxiously, slipping away from him in order to don the crossbow over one shoulder. "I'll be a few steps ahead of you."  
  
...Swag nodded slowly. "Alright. Stay safe, prom queen."  
  
"You too," Entre exhaled, propping one crutch under one arm and holding tight to the leather crossbow strap over his shoulder with the other. Sucking in a quick breath, the entrepreneur zipped open the tent, stepping outside carefully to meet Ted.  
  
The child's eyes glowed in the dark, illuminating his anxious expression. "I found this," he explained, offering Entre over a folded piece of paper.  
  
Entre released his grasp the strap, taking the note from the child. Flipping it open, Entre squinted at the words, hard to read in the dark-indigo light of dawn. "...What's it say?"  
  
"...I think the sound came from over here," Ted tugged his sleeve, beginning to string Entre along as he moved.  
  
"-Ah!" Entre hurried along best he could on his wounded leg, still narrowing his eyes at the note in his hand, attempting with an edge of desperation to make out the words.  
  
And into the undergrowth they disappeared, Ted pulling Entre along past trees and stinging nettles.  
  
_'Alright, children,'_ That was the first line. Entre bit his lip, ducking under an overhead branch as he attempted to read on.  
"Where are we going, Ted?" Entre asked, voice edged with nervousness. "We're going pretty far from camp."  
  
"...No - trust me, I can... sense it," Ted insisted. "This way..." And he continued to pull along the wounded entrepreneur.  
  
Entre bit his lip further, managing to just keep pace as his eyes skimmed over the words.  
  
_'The lights are out and the party's over. It's time for me, Doctor D, to start running. And say goodbye for a little while. And I know you're going to miss me, so I'll leave you with this...'  
  
_"...Hey, Ted," Entre's heart stopped, the words on the paper holding a familiar, unsettling tone. "I - I don't know if we should be doing this."  
  
_'You know that big ball of radiation we call the sun? Well, it'll burst into flames if you stay in one place for too long. That is, if the static doesn't get you first. So remember, even if you're dusted, you may be gone. But out here in the desert, your shadow lives on without you.'  
  
_"This - reads kind of..." Entre swallowed hard, recognizing the words. "Like a..." He didn't want to say it, for fear it was true.

_'This is Doctor Death-Defying, signing_ off.'  
  
\--And suddenly, Ted stopped dead.  
  
Entre stopped too, blinking as his eyes lifted from the paper. "What--" His words turned to leeches on his tongue.  
  
Slumped. Those were his boots.  
And as the eyes crawled up, it was his bandana. His shirt, his pleather jacket. His--  
  
_Blood.  
Brains.  
Sprayed everywhere.  
What used to be his-- _  
  
Without thinking, Entre's gasp caught in his throat, dropping his crutch as he moved his hands over Ted's eyes, jerking him away from the corpse against the tree.  
Entre closed his eyes too, sinking to his knees as he held Ted captive in his embrace, suddenly struggling to breathe.  
He pushed Ted's head into his shoulder, words stuck on the inside of his mouth.  
  
Entre didn't want to look anymore, the shock running rampant throughout his body.  
  
He heard Ted whining in his ear, his body trembling as he devolved into sobs and clung back.  
The kid hung on tight, as if his very life depended on it.  
  
"--I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Entre sputtered, petting Ted's hair in a hurried, desperate search of comforting gestures. "That you had to see that - I'm sorry..."  
He felt like he was _sinking._ Sinking into the ground. Sinking into himself.  
"I - nnghh..." His vision went blurry, head suddenly swimming as he clung tighter - _tighter_ back.  
  
Like he'd been shot, a slap to the face that he reeled from. The loss didn't register, the puzzle pieces didn't fit. _Rocky. Dead. Rocky. Dead. Because of me--_  
  
He felt his body rattling, his breath suddenly taken from him as he suffocated on that uncertainty of what to say.  
  
Choking up what sounded like a half-sob, half-cough, both gestures pooling together into an unhealthy, terrible fit.  
  
He heard Swag approaching, and lifted his head to acknowledge him, only to wince, suddenly pulling back from Ted as he realized.  
He couldn't - _breathe._  
Phlegm clogged in his throat, he _couldn't breathe.  
  
_Between his tearful hiccups, Entre tore his mask from his face, resting on his hands and knees staring spirals into the ground as the corners of his vision discolored.  
  
Teetering in and out. Heaving - heaving, he couldn't--  
  
He opened his mouth, his lungs burning suddenly as a salty ichor penetrated his tongue.  
Tears stung his eyes, body trembling.  
  
And all at once, a carmine ooze sputtered up from his throat, painting the ground with splattered arrays of slimy scarlet blood.  
And he coughed - and he coughed, and more and more blood poured from his throat, pooling into the ground as his form erupted into trembling. Finally sitting back, Entre sat in a daze, feeling someone pull him into a hug, and someone else cup his face with their hands.  
  
Vision blurred...  
  
"Entre." Swag's voice...  
  
Entre shook his head, raising a gloved hand to wipe away the mess of blood from his jaw. _Coughing up... blood..._ he felt sicker than he'd ever felt. Dizzy... _That's - a symptom of..._  
  
"Entre. Entre," Swag shook the entrepreneur.  
  
Entre squeezed his eyes shut, opening them again with a soft, hazy exhale. "...Sorry," he mumbled. "...Ah..."  
  
And just like that, he'd lost. A hard fought war that he'd lost. It was over now.  
Coughing up blood - _a symptom of the later stages of the Truffula Flu._  
He didn't have to fight anymore. His desperate fight for survival hadn't meant a damn thing.  
  
A sealed fate. Entre was going to die.  
  
He exhaled a shaky breath, drawing a hand across his lips.  
...He hadn't been bit.  
He hadn't been scratched.  
He hadn't been cross contaminated -- no. Coughing up blood was a _late_ symptom.  
  
Entre had been infected _all along._  
  
His brain spun in spirals as his eyes lifted to meet his partner's  
  
"...Ha..." He smiled, his heart withering away in his chest. "...Heh... heh, hah..." He sniffled, burying his head in his hands. It was over now, a few feet away from the corpse of his friend.  
Entre was fated to die.  
  
...And perhaps Swag knew it, too - from the flash of guilt in his expression.  
_...That I probably caught it... from you...?_ It was almost funny.  
In a terrible, terrible way.  
It was almost a joke.  
  
...But he opened his eyes again to find Ted hugging him close, tears streaming down his face as he stifled his sobs in Entre's shoulder.  
  
And Swag... Swag was pulling away, choking down a miserable sound.  
  
Swag, the unshakable one, was _crying._  
  
They were all miserable on the ground.  
...With no one to guide them.  
  
...Sinking. Sinking, sinking, sinking.  
Entre felt numb.  
Sinking down. Down. Down.  
Entre was going to die.  
Rocky was dead.  
And Entre was next.  
He was going to lose his goddamn mind.  
  
Every one of them - _has it finally gotten to all of us?  
_He laughed eerily.  
_Are we finally... broken, too?_  
_Ahahaha.._.  
  
...And it all fell into place.  
The panic, the fear, the grief, the guilt, the misery - it all fell into alignment.  
He couldn't sink any lower. Entre was on rock-bottom.  
...He had _nowhere else to go.  
  
...Except...  
  
_He reached out a hand, grasping Swag's wrist tight before he could get away.  
  
_...Up._  
  
All of it stilled, a sudden overpowering relief that took control of him.  
He couldn't put a finger on where it came from.  
  
But that overwhelming feeling flowed through his body and nullified the grief.  
  
No. _No, no, no._  
It was as simple as anything.  
  
If there was no one left to lift their spirits...  
  
... _Then I will.  
  
_The conscious decision that drove him home.  
  
Entre rose uneasily on his ankle, squeezing Swag's hand. "Stop," he urged softly. "Stop. Where are you going?"  
  
Swag ducked his head down in an attempt to hide his tears. "-Fuck off."  
  
"I asked a question, Swag." Entre stated firmly, his heart jittery inside his rib-cage as he managed to hold his ground. "...Swag. Where are you going?"  
  
"..." Swag turned back, pivoting on his heel to face his partner. He couldn't look him in the eye. "...You know, I _fucking hate_ being bulletproof."  
  
Entre glanced down quickly, ensuring Ted was still holding on tightly to him, before attempting to meet Swag's gaze again. "...I know."  
  
"No, you don't!" Swag snapped, forcing his gaze down again. "I - you don't get it! I'm sick to fuck of _losing_ people. You, One, Rocky, all three of you are the only pieces of shit that keep me waking up in the morning. You're the only assholes that - that I fucking know how to live for! You deserve this fucking 'immortality' more than I do!" His gaze tore back up, boring into Entre's hardened gaze.  
"Why can't - I just trade places with you? Why can't I be the one whose lungs are gonna get fucked up, and who's going to blow his brains out in front of a tree in the middle of the goddamn night? Huh? Why can't it be me instead of you!?"  
  
"..." Entre moved his hand up slowly to Swag's shoulder, squeezing it tight.  
"...I'm not going to die," he promised softly.  
  
"...Bullshit. You can't promise that. I'm the only one who can promise that, and you know it. I just have to sit and watch you fucking _die_ all over again!" Swag attempted to pull away, but Entre pulled him back.  
  
"Swag. Look at me." He inhaled a shaky breath, his own nerves fluttering up to his throat. But he wasn't ready to break again. Not while they needed him.  
He could break. He could devolve into a relapse of madness all over again. The Entre he knew. Like the Entre they all knew.  
...But he _didn't._  
A rush of adrenaline so great that he choked down the sensations, and kept going. _I have to keep going._ "Look at me," softer.  
  
Swag met his gaze.  
  
"...Rocky told me something once," he began. "...Said that since he was going to die... there was nothing for him to be scared of anymore. He lived his whole life fearing his own death, and once it stared him in the face, he accepted it. He made the most of it. I don't have to be afraid anymore."  
  
" _Don't."_ Swag growled.  
  
"I'm not _finished,_ " Entre insisted, eyes narrowing. "I'm _not_ going to die. Ted's infected. You're immune. Neither of us pose a threat to the group anymore."  
  
"That's not what I fucking said," Swag seethed, grabbing a hold of Entre's lapel and shaking him around. "You act like this won't hurt you because you _aren't_ the one who has to live through all your friends dying over, and over, and _over_ again. Watching, while you can't do _shit._ I can't _lose_ you, too!"  
  
"And you won't," Entre insisted. "You won't! Because I won't die before I find the cure!"  
  
"Stop talking bullshit just to make me feel better. I'm going to watch you die, Entre. Just like everybody else. And - And for all I fucking know, I'll have to - be the one to do you in. Huh? All of you guys promise you'll hang in there for me, but in the end, I'm the one who - just _can't_ die - and _I'm_ the one that has to sit here and watch you all go!"  
  
"Swag," Entre paused, lifting his hand up from Ted and cupping Swag's face. His heart rattled in his chest, moving faster, faster, faster. "Look at me. Just look." His tone was as fragile as it ever had been.  
  
Swag closed his eyes, then opened them again, looking. "What?"  
  
"...I'm _right here._ And I'm not going anywhere. We should have time, at least. Turning takes _time._ We'll be at the lab in a few days. I'm going to find that cure because..." He shook his head. "...It's - it's what Rocky was trying to protect. It's what we've been after this whole time. I'm _not_ going anywhere." He swallowed hard, grasping Swag's shoulders.  
"And I'm not going anywhere because I love you, you stupid fucking asshole! I love you, and I'm not going to let my past mistake separate us, or Ted, or _anyone_ anymore. And _that,"_ he jabbed his pointer finger into Swag's chest, "is a _fucking promise._ Alright? I told you not to give up, and I meant it. Alright? So let's get out of here, let's bury Rocky, let's keep going. Because - well."  
A melancholy smile twisted onto his lips as he drew his thumbs across Swag's cheeks to clear them of tears. "... _It's not over 'til we're underground._ And it'll take a whole lot more than a bad cough to get me there. Alright-?" He laughed softly, tears of a different variety spiking his eyes again.  
  
"...God," Swag wiped at his eyes, exhaling a long breath. "...Where the fuck did you learn to do that...?" It was hard to read his tone. Then, jaw clenched as his eyes meandered back and forth, he grasped Entre's lapel again, pulling him in to a kiss.  
  
Entre's widened in surprise, his pulse racing in his ear as he eased, kissing back. Then, breaking away--  
  
"They're coming, Mr. Entre!" Ted tugged on the entrepreneur's sleeve, causing him to glance up.  
  
And sure enough, the darkness of the forest was not enough to shield an oncoming barrage of noises. Different sections of the forest stirring.  
A snapping twig here.  
A rustling bush there.  
  
_That's right._ The infected.  
  
"Get Rocky," Entre urged, awkwardly navigating on his injured ankle to reach his crutch on the ground as his other hand fumbled with his crossbow.  
  
The woods closed in on them  
  
Swag hesitated, glancing around at the environment, before yanking Entre back up by the hood of his coat. "No time. Get up."  
  
"--Huh?" Entre yelped in surprise as he was forced to his feet. "What do you mean?"  
  
But Swag had already moved on. "Come on, Ted. Let's go." He leaned down, hoisting Entre into an awkward bridal carry again.  
  
"-Wah!" Entre wrapped his arms around Swag's shoulders, squeezing him tightly. _I'm not letting go.  
_Glancing over Swag's shoulder to ensure Ted was keeping pace, Entre's face paled as he watched Rocky's figure being swallowed again by the darkness.  
_I'm sorry..._  
Winding down, Entre rested his head tiredly on Swag's shoulder, suddenly exhausted. The grief catching up to him, he allowed a few thoughtless tears to slip from his eyes.  
-But he wasn't through yet.  
  
"Camp," Entre registered. "We don't have time to pack."  
  
"Nope. We don't," Swag confirmed. "Grab what you need n' let's hit the road. We can get some more gear on the way, if we find any."  
  
"Right," Entre acknowledged.  
  
The stop was brief, since all Entre needed was his remaining crutch and a familiar backwards hat.  
  
After Swag loaded Entre into the passenger seat, the entrepreneur glanced outside to watch Ted emerging from his own tent, Rocky's old axe guitar locked in his grip.  
  
...Entre held his breath.  
"Hey, uh..." He glanced backward to the empty back seats of the jeep, before popping open the door to the passenger's side. "It's a little bumpy, but... you can sit up here if you want, Ted..."  
  
...Ted glanced up, his expression lighting up through his tearful frown. After a moment, he nodded slowly, pushing the axe guitar into the back seat as he clambered up to the passenger's side.  
  
Entre helped him up quietly, allowing the other to situate himself on his lap.  
  
Ted settled down, wrapping his arms around Entre's neck and resting there carefully.  
  
...Hrm -- Entre threaded the seatbelt around them both, clicking it into place before holding Ted in place.  
  
Swag glanced over. "You guys good to go?"  
  
"Yeah," Entre exhaled, giving a tired thumbs up. He glanced off into the desolate woods again.  
...He held Ted more closely.  
  
_Goodbye Rocky._ It stung. The more he considered him, it stung.  
Someone so good, so insightful. So genuine.  
Someone who showed him kindness when he hadn't deserved it.  
The more he thought about it he--  
  
Entre shook his head, exhaling a quiet breath.  
_Focus.  
  
_Maybe it was about time they stopped living in the past.  
"Let's go."


	18. Ilomilo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving a content warning for some unfortunate once-ler sexual tension this chapter.  
> (It goes nowhere.)

  
Entre kept his tired eyes on the road ahead, closing them briefly, only to open them again. It felt like an endless cycle.  
Now that the adrenaline had worn down, it really began to settle on him what had happened.  
  
Rocky was dead.  
...The longer he was able the process, the more _biting_ the cold air felt against his face as they drove along.  
And Entre was next.  
  
Now as he lifted a hand to cough into his palm, he noticed Swag glancing away. Perhaps he didn't want to acknowledge it.  
  
Entre couldn't be sure.  
As he stared ahead, though, more thoughts crept into his mind.  
  
He lifted a hand from around Ted to feel at the gauze where an ear had once been. _And for what?  
_With an idle stare into the two empty seats in the back of the car -- _and for nothing.  
  
_Because Entre had already been ill.  
It made his lips frigid with guilt - guilt that he swallowed. Guilt that he was sick to death of thinking about.  
Guilt that he didn't want to share with Swag.  
  
"...Town coming up?" He inquired passively, attempting to take his mind off of his self-betraying thoughts.  
  
"Yep. That should be the last night stop before Greenville," Swag responded, eyes remaining on the road.  
  
... _Greenville._ Now Entre hadn't heard that name in a _long_ while. He could still remember when he'd been someone of importance there.  
_Ha, ha, ha..._ back when his primary fear had been one of failure. Ironic, sad.  
  
The dust was beginning to collect on his uncertain psyche.  
  
On his lap still, Ted reached over Entre's shoulder, prompting the other to tilt his head away in order to allow the kid to obtain whatever it was he was reaching for.  
Sitting back, Ted carefully fumbled with the axe guitar, before, with the utmost cate, finding a proper hold for it in his arms.  
The kid glanced between Swag and Entre.  
  
"...Oh, uh - do you want to play us something...?" Entre offered lightly.  
  
"Uh - yeah, if... that's okay." His eyes were dried now, but still puffy from recently shed tears.  
  
Entre nodded quietly. "Sure it is. Uh... go for it."  
  
Ted straightened up his posture, as if attempting to look his best while playing an instrument of such importance. Then: a chord. And another chord. A familiar pattern.  
  
A hush fell through Entre. _Highway to Hell..._ Rocky must have taught him.  
The pain was sudden. The entrepreneur pressed a soft cough into the back of his glove.  
  
Ted hesitated, before he kept going.  
Another few chords...  
  
"... _Livin' Easy, Livin' Free..."_ Entre sang softly, staring at his lap before his voice swallowed itself.  
  
Ted stopped when Entre did, also glancing away.  
  
...It was a pathetic silence. The music was dead already.  
Entre found himself rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, managing to take away a tear. _God._ He'd forgotten how empty mourning felt.  
  
"... _Season ticket on a one-way ride..."_ Swag continued for them both, giving the duo a pointed look. _'Go on.'  
  
_Entre cast a glance back Ted, before clearing his throat.  
  
Ted's fingers fumbled for a second, before continuing to strum the notes again.  
  
" _Asking nothing, leave me be."_ Entre continued, managing to settle on a melancholy smile as he sniffled softly. It was hard with the tiredness and the emotion affecting his voice, but Entre really tried to sound his best.  
  
_"Taking everything in my stride,"_ Swag completed, hamming up his performance slightly.  
  
" _Don't need a reason, don't need no rhyme,"_ Entre started, but was surprised to find Swag finishing with him. Then they could all sing together.  
  
As Swag took on the next verse, Entre leaned in to murmur into Ted's ear. "...You know any of the words? You can sing with us, too."  
  
"...Just the 'highway to hell' part..." Ted continued to strum.  
  
"Well, here it is in a second," Entre murmured hurriedly, before joining into Swag's verse. " _Going down, party time."_ He lifted his fingers, pointing to Ted with one, and Swag with other. " _My friends are gonna be there, too, yeah..."_ He managed a fleeting laugh.  
  
Swag rolled his eyes, but managed a faint smile.  
  
...And the chorus.  
" _I'm on the highway to hell..."_  
All three of them managed to chime in for that part.  
  
...As Entre continued to sing along, his actions began to feel less naïve.  
It felt wrong to be having fun. Making light of the mourning felt wrong, especially when their makeshift band was missing its most familiar member.  
But then again -- _he would have wanted this._ Rocky would have wanted this.  
The three of them, tearing down the street, _singing_ with tears in their eyes.  
Managing to smile through their pain.  
  
They hadn't managed to recover his body, but... maybe they didn't need a funeral in order to grieve him together.  


* * *

  


Swag lifted his head to squint at a street sign before narrowing his eyes at the passing trees.  
With a soft exhale, he glanced at the dashboard before allowing his eyes to travel over to the passenger's seat.  
"There once we hit the turn off."

There in the passenger's seat was Ted, glancing up at him, and Entre, his face turned away.

...Swag's eyes narrowed. "...Is he sleeping?" He pointed, eyes narrowing.

Ted glanced down, then back up. "...Yeah."

"...Alright, don't wake him up when you get out of the car," Swag focused his eyes on the road again, pulling over onto the shoulder of the road and parking in front of a small cabin. Standing in the front seat as he raised a hand to shield his gaze, Swag narrowed his eyes at the shaded windows.  
"...Pretty fuckin' small, but it's the first house here. Shouldn't be too hard to break in."  
Sitting back down to properly park the car, Swag hopped out of the front seat, rounding the jeep to jab a thumb over his shoulder. "Hey. C'mon, kid. I'll show you how to bust the fucker open."

"Oh! Okay...!" Ted said excitedly, seemingly taking care to keep his voice quiet as he inched around Entre to the car door, slipping out of the jeep and shutting the door behind him.

Swag paused, giving Entre a sideways glance as he considered the cold of the afternoon. Then, stripping off his pleather coat, he approached the jeep again, blanketing him quietly with the garment. Then, quickly sliding a cigarette from one of the open pockets, Swag lit up, then gestured for the door.

They approached together.

Swag tested the knob, before taking a knee and sliding an old metal business card into the slot of the door.

Ted watched with avid interest, pausing to bite his lip. "...Uh - Swag?"

Swag continued to futz with the card. "Yeah, what is it?"

"..." Ted paused. "Rocky was teaching me how to drive, uh... I never finished. Do you think you could finish teaching me...?"

"..." Swag narrowed his eyes, testing the knob and pulling the door open after having properly dislodged the lock. "Sure, why the fuck not. As long as we got some time in this longhaul."

"..." Ted glanced down, swallowing hard, seeming on the verge of saying something, but stopping. "...Rocky, uh..." His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut before he opened them again, gaze more sharp. "Rocky said that... I'd get better. Do you think so...? That I won't..." He trailed off.

_Get your brains sprayed on the ground like One and Rocky?_ Swag took a long drag from his cigarette. "..." He glanced off, opening the door for them both. _No. You definitely will. All of us will, except me.  
_Entre had seemed so certain of his success. Had that been true?  
"...We'll see," he allowed an uncertainty. For Rocky's sake. _Can't believe you lied to that kid._ "You're a pretty badass kid. Just hang in there for a little while." He frowned distantly, before disappearing inside.

...Some part of him hoped that Rocky would have been proud, had he seen it.

* * *

  


Entre stirred, sensing someone standing over him.

"Hey, loser." It was Swag. "We're here. Gonna carry your sorry ass inside now, so hang on tight."

"...Oh, we are...?" Entre glanced around wearily.

"Yeah, come on up." Swag leaned down, carefully hefting the other up into a bridal carry again.

Entre gave a soft gasp, clinging tightly to Swag's shoulders. There, he rested tiredly against the crook of his neck. "Thanks..." he mumbled the word.

"Good to see you're finally getting some fucking sleep," Swag commented snidely. "All it took was-" He paused.  
And then didn't finish.

"...What?"

"...Not important." Swag pushed open the door with his foot, slipping quietly through the door.

"...Mm," Entre paused, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he took a gander around the cabin. "Not a bad find," he complimented lightly.

"Thanks." No witty comment, to Entre's surprise, as Swag set Entre down, pulling open another door.  
"Our room. Gourmet as shit."

...It left some things to be desired, considering the shattered glass window panes, the cobwebs hanging loosely from the room's corners, dirt scattered across the floorboards.  
After a moment of silence, Entre paused, still holding onto Swag's arm as he balanced his weight on his better foot.

"Hey, uh..." Entre helped himself along the wall, seating himself hesitantly on the bed. "...Want to sit together for a second...?" A faint blush found his face as he bit his lip uncertainly. They had things to talk about, he felt.  
  
But Swag was already turning for the door. "Nah. Got shit to get done." He rested his hand on the knob, pulling open the door and beginning to step through.

Entre sat up. "Hey, wait! Swag! Where are you going?"

Swag stopped slowly, turning around in the doorway and leaning his elbow in the door frame. "Out. We gotta bring all our shit inside."

"...And then?"

"Out to get the kid something to eat."

"...And _then?_ "

"A supply run, the fuck you care so much for?" Swag snapped unpleasantly, rifling through his pocket to produce a cigarette that he pressed between his lips.

"...I don't know. Sorry," Entre said weakly, swallowing his voice. "..." His eyes found the floor, narrowing quietly.  
... _No. Wait a second. He's just running away from me!_ And Entre knew it, of course. _He's... trying to distance himself._ But what could Entre do about it without provoking him?  
But then he realized. _I'm dying anyway._ What was he going to do? Continue to sit there in uncertainty? How Entre feared the idea of dying alone, being the failure that he was. He'd always felt the need to be so tentative, for fear that his last lifeline would leave him behind. But if he was dying anyway...  
He could suddenly see the way Swag _hung_ off his shuddering breaths. Every action meant so much, and so little all at the same time.  
It made Entre tremble. _...I'm dying.  
So what more do I have to lose, huh...?_

"Stop running away from me." Entre spoke the words to the floor, unable to look him in the eye as he said it. "...I know that's what you're doing - just sit down, please..."

Swag didn't sit down, but he did stand in the doorway, lifting a lighter to his cigarette. "I'm not running from you. Just busy. Just a reminder that we're stuck in the fucking apocalypse, dumbfuck."

Entre's eyes narrowed. "You think _I_ don't know that? You're leaving so you don't have to spend time with someone you're scared is going to die." He lifted his gaze to meet Swag's now.

"Don't," Swag deflected.

"You can't just hide from it, Swag," Entre admitted quietly. "I don't want to spend the rest of my time at arms length just because you aren't ready to lose me. I'm not going to lose. Or... at least I'm going to try my best not to. And I can't do that by myself."

"I said _don't._ I don't want to hear it." Swag's eyes shut tight.

"So you're just going to talk around me? What about _my_ feelings, Swag?" Entre felt bolder and bolder with every word that he allowed to escape his lips. "We're going in circles, dude." _This isn't working._ But he was too much a coward to say that. No, Entre wanted this to work.  
He needed Swag more than he'd ever needed anything.  
"...Can you at least take these...?" Entre dug into his pocket, before holding out a box that Swag would find familiar. Long, flat, lined with a row of sedatives, were he to open the lid. "...Just in case. Uh... I don't really need them anymore."

Swag's jaw clenched, baring his teeth as he finally _did_ draw forward, snatching the box from Entre's hands. "I don't need shit." Closing his hand tight around the box, Swag discarded the gift carelessly onto the floor, on which it tumbled over itself into a corner of the room.  
He took a drag from his cigarette, fire burning behind his eyes. "No matter what the fuck I do, I'm going to be the one to make it, and you won't. I'm just going to stand here and watch you pretend you aren't falling apart. Just like One, just like Rocky - just like the kid right now. Rocky promised me he'd hold out for a cure, and then shot his fucking brains out. You can promise me all you fucking want, but you _can't_ keep it." He hissed out a waft of smoke. "I'm tired of getting my hopes up, man. I'm fucking _sick_ of all of you going. And don't even pretend like I haven't realized that it was probably _me_ that fucked you over."

Entre's eyes squeezed shut, and then opened again. "And what's avoiding me going to do to fix that?" He challenged. "I remember I'm _human_ around you. You're - you're what makes me want to keep going. I'm not going to give up, because I don't want you to lose someone else." He couldn't even be angry at Swag. It made sense to be upset.  
Entre hugged himself quietly, finally snatching his gaze away. _Maybe it is hopeless._ He shook his head. "Can we please talk...?" He said weakly.

"..." Breathing smoke, Swag conceded slowly, sitting beside Entre as he stared at the floor, too.

Entre hesitated, before patting the other's shoulder. "...You aren't alone, uh..." He cleared his throat. "We're both still here for you. I... want it to be different this time." _That's not helpful._ He bit his tongue, sighing softly. _This is all my fault._ Entre suddenly wanted to cry. The entrepreneur squeezed the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long, mourning breath. "I-I don't know..."  
It really was starting to close in on him that he was going to die. _God._ He was terrified.

"...I'm sorry."

... _Huh?_ Entre glanced up. _Did Swag say that?_ No one else could have. "...For what?" Entre asked quietly. "Don't blame yourself for getting me infected, I'm sure it could have been anyone..."

"...Not that," Swag mumbled, clearing his throat. "...I'm just being a piece of shit."

_...!_ Entre wasn't used to Swag apologizing. "...Uh... it's fine, you're stressed," he dismissed softly.

"...Here, do you wanna..." Swag didn't finish, but he widened his sitting position, holding out his arms in offering. _'Come here.'_

Entre crawled forward, climbing onto Swag's lap and hugging him tightly.

Swag hugged him back, rubbing a hand into his shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss to Entre's forehead. "...Here, I have to check on your ear, anyway."

"...Ah, yeah, that's right," Entre realized, pulling back slightly and turning his head to the side to give the other a proper look at it.

Swag felt around under the bed, before producing the first aid kit. He reached up a hand to peel off the gauze from Entre's ear.

"...Hey," Entre said quietly. "I, uh... I'm sorry, too."

"...What. For dying? Don't give me that bullshit," Swag assured softly, dabbing a bit of ointment on the other's ear. "I'm the one that's acting off." He exhaled a soft huff of smoke, running a gloved finger down Entre's cheek. "...I wanna be there for you."

"...You do...?" Entre asked softly.

"Yeah. I do. Not fair to make you haul ass by yourself." Swag laid down a new strip of gauze. "...Besides, I shouldn't be the one being a baby about this. I started keeping Rocky at a distance, too, and look where that got me." He cleared his throat bitterly.

"...I'm sure Rocky understood," Entre promised.

"Maybe he wouldn't have done it if I'd been there." He laid down a layer of tape, before closing the first aid kit and nudging it back under the bed with his foot again.

"That's not fair to pin on yourself," Entre whispered, lifting a hand to sweep stray strands of hair from Swag's face. _I'm sure he still would've..._ Entre bit his lip again. "If anything, he was probably doing it for _me..._ "

Swag shook his head, heaving out a sigh as he took another drag from his cigarette. "Nah. Listen. Can you tell me about some of your nerd shit? You seemed pretty certain we had a chance of fixing this stuff. Wanna know what your plan is. 'Cause then we can put it into action, and we can kick the flu's ass."

Oh, well. Admittedly Entre had been acting in confidence out of need, but he nodded slowly. "Sure. Once we find my factory... if there are any traces left of the original moss, we can take samples from it. And even if not, I had botanists in Greenville who helped me put together stuff about the truffula trees. And if I could get my hands on their notes..." He shrugged. "I could try and reverse engineer it, or..." _Probably not._ "Have somewhere new to start. I could experiment with _purging_ the infection. It's a fungal infection. If we can just figure out some way to _kill_ the infection." Entre lifted his hands up, pressing a cough into his palms. "Then we could fix it."

"...Right. It's - what, like _The Last of Us?_ "

"Right, yeah." Entre closed his eyes. God... the more time he had to think about it, the more he could _swear_ he felt the tendrils of a living, breathing infection stretching his tendrils into his body, making home inside his pores. Weaving webs into his brain. He could feel it _digging in.  
_He shuddered. "So if we can just kill it without killing the host... then we should be able to make progress. It wasn't easy before since we didn't have any samples, and I didn't exactly know what I was doing. But _now..."_ He made a vague gesture, holding his two hands out towards each other, fingers out stretched. Holding something, almost. "...We might have a chance."

...Swag smiled faintly. drawing a finger across Entre's lip. "Smart."

Entre blushed softly. "Ah, thanks, heh. I try."

Swag removed his cigarette from his mouth in order to lean forward, gracing Entre's lips with his own. As he pulled back, he replaced the cigarette. "Excited to see you cure the flu," he managed optimistically.

"Well. I'm excited, too." Entre cleared his throat, coughing again softly.

"N' I know you can do it. No one's as much as a nerd as you." Swag used a hand to lift Entre's face, meeting his gaze quietly. "And I'll be with you."

"...That's good. I wouldn't want anyone else," Entre said softly, coiling both of his hands around Swag's. Then, leaning forward, he was careful in placing a kiss on Swag's jaw.  
Feeling a quiet flutter in his heart, Entre paused. _Back, forth, back, forth..._ they always had a habit of going back and forth.  
Weaving in and out of their commitments. They felt so lost, and so found.  
Would their promises stick this time? Leading each other in and out of the dark. He hoped that it would.  
Sitting up, Entre rested his hands firmly on Swag's shoulders, beginning to push him downward.

Swag cocked a brow, but allowed himself to be guided down, expression stiff.

Entre pressed Swag's shoulders against the bed, before sitting quietly on Swag's stomach. He rested one hand beside the other's head, another beside his chest, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at the other. A faint smile crossed his confident expression.  
...He really did have nothing to lose.

"What's this about?" Swag toyed, smirking quietly, cigarette still stuck between clenched teeth. 

"...Swag." Entre lifted a hand, voice unfaltering as he guided Swag's head up, enough to make direct eye contact with him. A silent command, _look at me._ "What are we, exactly?"

"What do you mean...?" Swag stared back, unfaltering.

"What am I to you?" Entre said. "You've never really cleared that up. Are we friends?" His thumb traced the outline of Swag's jaw. "...Because I've always considered us partners. And I want to know if I'm seeing us wrong. I want to know... what _you_ think we are."

"...'Partners,'" Swag considered, feeling the word in his mouth before taking a long drag from his cigarette. "...I dunno." He huffed up a billow of smoke from his throat, breathing it into Entre's face as a subtle challenge to his dominance.

Entre didn't flinch, fighting the need to cough as ash clouded his lungs. But he held strong. "I know you don't," he said gently. "But I want certainty. If we're going to the end together, than I want to know for certain what we are." He reached forward, plucking the cigarette from Swag's lips and taking a long drag from it himself.  
"...Are we in love, Swag?" Their first exchange of 'I love you's had been after One-ler's death, out of a desperate desire for one another. Out of their shared loneliness.  
Entre had nothing to lose, so he allowed himself to continue, even if his better judgement told him to reign in his adventurous motivation. "Or are we just friends who kiss each other when we can't take their own loneliness anymore? Because if I'm taking you with me to the end," Entre breathed his own cloud of smoke into Swag's face as he leaned down, inches from his stony expression. "Then I want to be your partner. I'm _ready_ to be your partner, but I want you to be mine, too. I want to do this _together,_ not whatever we're doing right now."

"..." Swag's expression faltered, inclining his face away from the smoke as his lip twitched in uncertainty. His gaze flicked away.

Entre didn't press, sitting back up slowly to allow the other space. He had to admit how _powerful_ he suddenly felt. He liked the rush of speaking his mind.  
He liked the feeling of standing up for himself.  
_Please._ He held his breath. _Please..._  
Swag had never seemed one for commitments, but Entre had hoped he'd meant enough to him to breach that boundary.

...Swag moved his hands down Entre's thighs gently, before he stopped. His eyes closed.

"...I just want to do this together," Entre elaborated softly. _...I... hope that's okay._ He almost apologized, but he didn't. He held firm. "Not just because we're desperate but, because we love each other."

"..." Swag sighed eventually, lifting his gaze to meet Entre's again. "...Shit. Where'd you learn to be so hot?"

"I was always this hot," Entre joked light-heartedly, taking a drag from the cigarette again, and sending a soft cloud of ash down in Swag's direction again, managing a weak cough.

Swag grinned quietly, before hesitating again. His eyes closed. "...Yeah. Fuck it, alright." He opened his eyes, staring back up. Taking a deep breath, he managed a smirk. "...Alright. Let's do this shit together."

Entre couldn't contain his sigh of relief as a smile stretched across his face. "...Heh... okay. I was hoping you'd say that." He sat back slightly, allowing Swag to rise..

Swag sat up, grasping Entre's lapels quietly and pulling him into a kiss.

Entre closed his eyes, inhaling softly as he held his cigarette to the side, kissing back.  
The second he felt Swag beginning to press him down, however, Entre quietly pushed back, pinning his partner's shoulders against the bed.   
"Not finished yet," he informed softly. "Just to make clear, since we're in this together, we should probably stop talking around each other so much. I'll try and come to you and... you can always come to me." He took a drag from the cigarette again, but blew the smoke upward instead, away from the both of them. "l'm here for you. Always, you know... and I know things are a gamble, but I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"..." Swag nodded slowly. "...I'm pretty sick of hurting you too."

Entre smiled faintly. "...Alright. Let's - I dunno. Try and stick it through. Like... well, partners."

"That makes sense to me," Swag promised.

"...Alright. Makes sense to me, too." Entre took one last drag from the cigarette, before gently replacing it in Swag's mouth, scooting back and off of the other.

Swag sat up with a smug smile, sitting on his knees and lifting a hand to hold Entre's head in place as he pressed his lips firmly against Entre's.

The smoke in their mouths intermingled, hazing through their lips as they continued to kiss each other.

Swag turned briefly, pressing the butt of the cigarette into an ash tray on the end table before returning to the embrace, massaging his thumbs into the grooves under Entre's collarbones as he slowly lowered the other against the mattress.

And Entre went willingly, giving a heated exhale as his hands rested on either side of his head.

Swag gently swept Entre's cap from his head, climbing on top of him as he pressed a line of kisses up the side of his partner's neck.

Entre exhaled another soft breath, running his fingers through Swag's hair. His heart fluttered in his chest, cheeks heating up rapidly.

Swag took a hold of Entre's wrist, pinning it up above his head as he took a firm hold of his jaw--

A knock on their door caused them to freeze.

"...Uh..." Entre gently pushed Swag off, sitting up quickly. "Ted?"

"Yeah," called the child from outside the door, "uh, Swag? Could I ask your help with something? The fold-out bed isn't working..."

Swag swallowed, clearing his throat. "Yeah, give me a sec, dude, I'll be right out."  
Patting Entre's thigh, he slipped off the bed, standing as he dusted himself off.

"Hey, before you go," Entre took a quick hold of his wrist, making eye contact quietly. "...I _love you._ "

"..." Swag smiled faintly. "...I love you too, babe."

"..." Entre smiled faintly, sitting back, before nodding into the corner of the room. "...Don't forget the sedatives."

Swag followed his gaze, pausing. "...Yeah, right. Okay..." He scooped the box off the floor, tucking it away into his coat pockets and slipping through the door without another word.

It was quiet, then. And Entre was alone.

But he didn't feel alone.


	19. Hanging by a Moment

Entre slept without dreams - which was the most relieving sleep he'd had in a long time.  
No struggle with the taking of his own life. No watching one of his friends bleeding out in his arms.  
No guilt. No pain.  
  
The sun stung his eyes as Entre awoke, lifting a hand to obscure his view as a tiredness washed over him. Turning into his pillow, Entre's eyes drew closed again.  
Feeling a cough pressing at the back of his throat, Entre shuddered, hacking up a few uneven breaths into his hands. His shoulders trembled as he closed his eyes again. Fading in and out of awareness.  
  
Entre felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.  
  
"Hey. Time to get up," it was Swag.  
  
Entre nodded wearily, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands as he sat up. "...Good morning..."  
  
"...Mornin'," Swag leaned over, nestling a kiss to Entre's temple. Then another to his cheek, then to his jaw. Resting a hand under the other's chin, Swag guided Entre's face up, letting their tired gazes reach an alignment. "Greenville today. Ready to go kick some ass?"  
  
"Yeah, I am..."  
  
"'Kay. That's good." Their lips pressed briefly together, before Swag shoved a lopsided pile of clothes onto Entre's lap. "That's your shit. Get dressed and I'll carry you out." He leaned back, giving a smug smile. "...Since I'm pretty sure you aren't walking there by yourself."  
  
Entre gave a mirthless laugh. "Aren't you Prince Charming."  
  
Swag stuck a cigarette into his mouth, cocking a brow. "More like _Prince Swaggy._ "  
  
"..." Entre leaned back against his pillow, blinking slowly. Comprehending the statement. Then, with a jesting smile, he laughed softly.  
"...That is by far the _stupidest thing_ I've ever heard you say."  
  
"You love it."  
  
"I love _you_ ," Entre informed with a smirk, pulling on his shirt over his head. "It's not the same thing."  
  
"I'm the CEO of comedy," Swag insisted.  
  
"Whatever you say, loser," Entre sassed, sitting up on his knees to pluck Swag's lighter from his pocket, extending the flame out to light up his boyfriend's cigarette.  
  
"Okay, _'Super Bitch_ ,'" Swag leaned in, pulling back when the tip of his cigarette began to glow faintly.  
  
"Okay, asshole," Entre mumbled.  
  
"Okay, sissy." Swag took back his lighter, leaning down to press one last kiss to Entre's lips and squeezing his shoulders softly. They hung there for a moment, not quite wanting to break apart, before Swag finally stepped for the door. "Just call for me when you're ready."  
  
Entre sat on the edge of the bed, coughing lightly as he pulled on the rest of his clothes. "Think I might try walking there myself," he contemplated aloud. "Wanna try and see if I can make it with just the one crutch, or maybe even no crutches..." He glanced vacantly at the lonely crutch on the floor, its twin lost somewhere in the woods beside Rocky's remains.  
  
"...Heh. Well, I'll be proud if you can even stand up," Swag joked lightheartedly, removing the cigarette from his mouth to huff a billow of smoke into the air. "...But yeah. Might be handy if you can walk around on your own, since we're going right to the fucking eye of the hurricane, pretty much."  
  
Entre nodded dismissively, giving a reassuring smile as Swag left him.  
"Got it. I'll, uh... try."  


* * *

  


Swag was waiting for Entre outside, leaned against the jeep. Entre could see him smiling faintly even from their short distance.

The entrepreneur slowed his hobble, finally resting his crutch under his arm and allowing himself to lean on it for support.

Swag smiled, pushing his sunglasses up from his face. "Hey. Look at that. You walked out by yourself." He drew forward as Entre finally reached the car, resting his hands carefully on the other's hips.

Entre blushed faintly, lifting his hands up to cup Swag's face. "Told you I could do it."

"Sure could." Swag brushed a thumb across Entre's lips. "...Good job, hot stuff."

"...Ah, thanks..." Entre smiled warmly.

Swag wrapped an arm quietly around Entre's shoulder, opening the door of the jeep and guiding the entrepreneur into the passenger's side briefly. "Ready to go?"

"You know it," Entre chimed softly. He lifted his head, giving a brief glance over the maze of trees, attempting, for a moment, to see _through_ them.  
Closer, closer, closer... they had all almost reached Entre's very own utopia of shame.  
So as Swag slipped into the front seat, starting up the car, Entre held his breath, giving a glance back to Ted, a side-glance to Swag, and a glance forward.  
_Here we go, I guess._

It didn't take too long for the landscape to become familiar, even in its decrepit and worn-down state. The way small hills curled over themselves, the way acres of tree stumps littered certain patches of land, overgrown now with moss and ivy.  
Old houses that now lay with their windows burst open, and their roofs caved in on themselves. The red-tinted sky added an eerie haze over buildings himself had once driven by on his routine visit to work.  
Way back when he'd had a job he could be proud of.

Swag said something.

Faintly touching at gauze obscuring his hearing, Entre turned around. "What was that?"

"...Nothing, don't worry," Swag dismissed softly. "You got any idea where we're going?"

"Yeah, uh..." Entre sat up in his car seat, narrowing his eyes until he sucked in a quiet gasp.

The withered sign, once decorated in a string of lights that now hung in a tangled mess towards the concrete below. In big, cursive letters that Entre remembered once finding so appealing.  
_**Greenville.**_  
  
The entrepreneur swallowed hard, an unpleasant, sour taste infiltrating his tongue as he coughed suddenly. He jabbed a finger at the sign. " _Over there._ " 

Swag glanced up, before giving a curt nod. As he turned the steering wheel sharply, he gave Entre a questioning look.

Entre glanced away, swallowing hard as he eyed his surroundings again. The more he looked around, the more the familiar sensation of guilt sunk into his psyche.  
Dismay, disarray - _I did this._ His failed project had destroyed this place that he'd raised from the ground. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. Entre ducked his hand to choke up a cough.

"Keep your head up, babe," Swag encouraged quietly. Then he said something else, more quietly.

"...My, uh..." Entre shook his head, glancing back over at Swag. "What was that?"

"Your factory! Is that your factory?" Ted said, likely repeating Swag's statement as he leaned forward from the back seat, pointing ahead.

Entre lifted his gaze to a mass of lonesome architecture, singed and disarrayed in the wreckage of its former glory. Glass littered the ground, metal hung in lopsided frames. A structure Entre had once been so proud of.  
He made a strange, stiff sound, falling into a coughing fit suddenly as he shook his head. "-Yeah," he managed. "That's right."

Swag took a long drag from his cigarette, reaching over a hand to squeeze Entre's thigh reassuringly.

The entrepreneur rested his hand over his boyfriend's, squeezing back. "That's the greenhouse... but we shouldn't start there." Entre cleared his throat. "I need supplies. I need to know what I'm doing, uh... and we need something to collect the samples with. I was thinking of trying to stop by the head botanist's house first... just to see what's up."

"...Right. You remember the guy's name? Or where he lived?"

"Yeah, used to go there all the time. His name's..." But Entre slowed, the words falling from his mouth like ash. His stare hardened as his face paled slightly. _What - what was his name?_ They'd been close once. What was his name? _I should know this!_ "I, uh... don't remember," he fumbled, as if it weren't so troubling that the name wasn't coming to him. "I think if we drive around, I'd be able to point it out."

Swag's eyes narrowed, but he nodded quietly, breathing smoke out from his nose. "Alright, we can do a little drive around."

"Thanks..." Entre mumbled, lifting his head in order to keep an eye out.

After passing a few familiar houses, Entre eventually held up a hand. "This - this one, I'm pretty sure." He gestured to the side. "There should be a laboratory around here, too, if you want to stop there next."

Swag pulled the jeep over, leaning over the window to give the house an up-down look. "This one?"

"That's the one," Entre ensured. "Pretty sure. Might have to break in."

"Not an issue," Swag dismissed, stepping outside. "Both of you idiots get behind me, I'll make sure there are none of those spiked fuckers inside. Then we can uh... look around."

"Maybe find some notes," Entre clarified. "Or his keys, or... a sample of the plants?"

"Yeah, that shit. Come on." Swag approached the door, retracting his metal business card from his pocket and attempting to wedge it into the doorway. With a faint laugh, he glanced back at Entre. "The houses in Greenville don't have very complicated locks."

"Well, that's on real estate, wasn't my job," Entre blew off softly, slinging his crossbow over one shoulder as he leaned on his crutch with the other hand.

Ted took up the rear as they all approached the door.

Swag unceremoniously threw the door open, tossing his cigarette carelessly to the ground and extinguishing it with the twist of his heel. "Alright, follow me."

And follow they did.

The interior of the home was dark as it was murky, the ground rampant with dampened spots and puddles of dirty water leaking from the floorboards.  
Shelves held trinkets that had once held value to somebody. Books littered the shelves, which quickly came under the jurisdiction of Entre's judging eye.

"...I hear something," Ted mumbled uncertainly from behind him.

"...Hear something?" Entre was confused, glancing back.

"...Something..." Ted shook his head after a second. "Just look out, I think..."

As far as the entrepreneur could tell, all was silent, except the occasional dripping leak from the ceiling, or the rustling of some of the houseplants.

The stillness made Entre uneasy as he turned back, thumbing through titles on the shelf by the entrance.  
_Gardening, botany, farming..._ Entre bit his lip. _Nothing?_   
Entre felt Swag resting a head on his shoulder, arms coiling quietly around the other's waist as they skimmed the titles together.  
The entrepreneur released a silent breath, easing in the embrace.  
"Nothing here seems useful," he informed quietly. "Maybe something in his room?"

"Probably. That's where people usually keep diaries, or whatever." Swag released his embrace, pressing a kiss to Entre's shoulder as he broke away, ducking into a hallway.

Entre gave the shelf another glance, watching as Ted followed along after Swag. "No, that's the kitchen," he recalled. "The bedroom's this way, guys." Reaching out a hand, the entrepreneur unlatched the door and tugged open the knob.

And Ted's voice cried out from the kitchen, prompting Entre to turn his head in alarm. "What is it are you okay?"  
Moving his eyes back to the opened door, Entre's voice clogged in his throat.

Behind the door was a wall of infected, all past human recognition. Spotted with countless boils, faces and bodies mangled as they climbed over one another in an attempt to reach Entre. Faces without life.

The entrepreneur gave a terrified shout, recoiling as an infected hand reached out, raking a hand across his cheek and drawing up a small trickle of blood.  
Entre threw the door back towards the doorway, pressing his back against the entrance in hopes of sealing the horde away again.

Seeing an infected's face appearing from behind the door, Entre clenched his teeth, lifting his crutch awkwardly and slamming it forcefully into the thing's jaw.  
Then, with a better grip, he repeated the act, dislodging its jaw from its head with an ugly _crack_.

"S-Swag! Ted!" He cried, struggling or footing on the floor as he continued to push back against the fortress of bodies attempting to break free. He felt blood from his cheek seeping into his mouth, spewing a metallic taste across his tongue.

He felt himself losing as the door continued to inch open second by second. Finally, through, he heard rapid footsteps approaching from the kitchen.

Rounding the corner -- Swag! With Ted hot on his tail.

"Shit," Swag cursed, hand clenched tight around one of his sickles as he approached the door. He reached out, attempting to wedge the door shut again.  
  
A diseased hand reached out from the ever-smaller opening, reaching out for Swag's face.  
  
Swag inclined his head away, biting down recklessly on the hand as he severed it from the wrist with a swipe of his sickle. Then, spitting the lost limb onto the floor, he shoved another one's head back behind the entryway, before finally managing to slam the door all the way shut.

Entre stood clumsily on his crutch, reaching out quickly to latch the door with a sigh of relief.  
Catching his breath against the door, he managed to lift his gaze.

There stood Swag, beads of sweat collected at the curve of his brow, still strong and resilient as ever. "...You okay?" He strode forward, narrowing his eyes at Entre's wound, before reaching out to take a hold of his jaw.

The entrepreneur pressed a hand to his cheek, pulling away. "I'm... fine, we can fix it later," he breathed out. "...Where the hell did all those infected come from?"

"...I have an answer for that," Swag answered, extending out a worn notebook. "...That your botanist? 'Cause it seems like someone in the kitchen had the same idea about a cure that you did."

"...My, uh..." Entre glanced down, taking the book from Swag and thumbing through the pages, skimming hungrily through the words scrawled across the pages.  
Information. _Information.  
__New_ information. Entre held his breath, glancing up ."Is he here?"

" _Here_ as in physically here? Or here as in 'alive?' 'Cause pretty sure your botanist is the corpse in the kitchen." He held up a hand. "...I wouldn't go looking, by the way."

"...Oh..." Entre swallowed hard. "...How'd he go?"

"Bullet to the head, probably caught the infection." Making sure Ted wasn't looking, Swag mouthed: _'Like Rocky.'_   
"Doesn't seem like a stretch, he was testing his cures on all the motherfuckers behind this door." Swag knocked quietly on the latched entryway, causing a faint scratching sound to respond.

"..." Entre bit his lip, glancing quietly over to Ted, standing a few feet away, eyes on the ground. "...You okay?" He asked quietly, widening a stance in order to appear more approachable to the child.

"...I'll, uh... be okay," Ted glanced up, remaining where he stood for a moment.  
After a second, though, he did inch closer to Entre, sticking quietly to his side.

"...Okay," Entre paused, patting Ted on the head assuringly before returning his gaze to the notes and thumbing through eagerly.

"We should go back to the jeep," Swag decided briefly. "Anything at all useful in there?"

After a few more seconds of letting his eyes eat up the words, Entre nodded quickly. "New - _new_ stuff. He knew more about the origin of these trees than I did."

Ted stood on his tip-toes, attempting to get a look at the words himself.

Entre lowered the notebook slightly, allowing the kid a better view at the strings of cursive packed desperately into each page.

"...Anything you can find a cure with?" Swag asked, his blue eyes locking quietly with Entre's.

"I don't know," Entre answered genuinely. "...But it's something. Probably the best lead we've got right now." He paused, a faint, hopeful smile creeping onto his face.  
"...And now... I think I know where to start."  
Picking up where an old friend left off.

...And maybe they could _finish it_ this time.


End file.
